Slithering Darkness
by AriesOrion
Summary: Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equaled survival, and weakness equaled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle
1. Chapter 1 - Tom Marvolo Riddle

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honor belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

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 **General Warnings:** Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

* * *

 **Summary:** Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equaled survival, and weakness equaled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

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 **Chapter 1:** Tom Marvolo Riddle: Early years

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The general consensus in the St Wool's orphanage was that Tom Marvolo Riddle was a boy unlike any other. He was such a smart lad, always helpful and so very respectful – the perfect little boy. With his midnight black hair and dark stormy blue eyes, fine skin and high cheekbones – he was the prince that every young girls in the orphanage always imagined coming to save them when listening to the fantastic bed-time stories.

Tom Riddle was perfect in the eye of every single person who came across him. Such an angel, some would whisper, while others nodded enthusiastically – after all no one who knew Tom Riddle could fault him in any way.

His strange behavior when he was still a baby was soon forgotten, blamed on an overactive imagination. How once awake his eyes would remain open, observing his surroundings with unmatched curiosity and a frightening focus belonging solely to him. How he would only cry when he was hungry or needed a change of diapers – how sometimes his eyes would seemingly narrow in concentration or how adverse he was to spending time among other babies.

Amanda Cole, the matron of the orphanage did not believe herself to be a superstitious person. Regardless of her rather realistic outlook upon life, aided by the misery she saw each and every single day – she was still deeply religious. She still remembered Tom's mother, stumbling upon their doorstep in the middle of the night on New Year's Eve, body frail and upon the cusp of giving birth. Amanda had already given up on both the baby and the mother, but against all odds the birth had been successful even if the mother did not survive. Tom Riddle had been a strong baby – uncommonly healthy in those times – with a fine pair of lungs that screamed his survival to the world upon the crux of the old year exactly when the clock struck twelve.

She had been sure it was an omen, and now a little more than half a decade later she was completely sure it was a good one.

After all, Tom Riddle was an angel and could do absolutely no wrong. Anything else was simply the figment of an overzealous imagination.

{1}

Tom Marvolo Riddle knew from his infancy on that he was undoubtedly special. After all how many people remembered a previous life and its subsequent ending? He still remembered the pain as the pullet tore through his body mercilessly, the frustrating – _bitter_ – helplessness as he could only lay in his own pool of blood, desperate but too weak.

He had been in the way of an assassination attempt on his father – a corrupt but relatively major politician who made too few friends and too many enemies. It did not surprise him that his pathetic father was the cause of his ultimate death the one time he had actually deigned to visit him in a few years.

He had woken up, confused and furious – because _what gave them the right?_ – wailing desperately as he was cleaned of something wet and sticky. It was only when he saw the exhausted and clearly dying form of the woman who had just given birth to him that he had calmed down, enough to hear her last words.

Her last words naming him Tom Marvolo Riddle, after his father and maternal grandfather apparently.

Tom Riddle who was exceptionally intelligent and magically powerful.

Tom Riddle who eventually became Lord Voldemort.

Tom Riddle who died at the hands of Harry Potter.

His baby brain – too undeveloped to function to the proper capacity – had promptly shut down, before slowly during the next few days all the possibilities had accumulated in his mind – at this time too busy warding off the constant need to sleep to be able to think logically.

Tom Riddle had unlimited potential. Potential which he had only ruined by his overwhelming fear of death that made him split his soul several times, eventually causing him to become absolutely insane – insane enough to lose against Harry Potter of all people.

A child who was too busy playing hero to actually learn about the world he was coming into.

His personality and life experience was what made him identify himself with Tom Riddle when he read the series for the first time. They had been rather similar and back then; he had desperately wished that he could also use magic to pursue his goals.

 _He_ was Tom Riddle now; he could script the game anew, trying to prevent the mistakes that the former Tom Riddle had made in his ignorance and anger. He would not waste the opportunity right before him. Hadn't it been his dream to rid the world of those too unworthy – those who were useless and too weak – and now he had the power to do so.

Power which he had previously lacked.

He had started with trying to locate what made Tom Marvolo Riddle so very special in the first place – his overwhelming magic. After frustrating and endlessly tiring months in which he was also trying to gain control over his new baby body, he had finally felt a spark of something when his anger at his constant failure reached its peak.

His magic.

What followed where a year of boredom, extreme mental discipline and a fight against the limitations of his small form – but eventually he succeeded and he was able to constantly feel that small warm spark inside of him.

Tom Riddle despised the orphanage. It was too small, dirty and dingy and he was sure that without his magic he wouldn't be as healthy as he was now. Still, being feared by the matron and children had been what put the original Tom Riddle on Dumbledore's radar – and he would not make the same mistake.

Instead he started behaving like a small angel. As he grew, he began offering help to others who were not as advanced as he was – smiling kindly at everyone. Children were just so easy to manipulate – their personality was not yet formed and there were enough holes in their mentality that Tom could slip in and insert himself as being trustworthy.

After all, they could not know of the twisted thoughts churning angrily in his mind.

He had done the same thing in his former life after all, playing a role that was not him. Tom Riddle soon became the paragon of kindness and compassion, an angel that deigned to grace their unworthy lives with his mere presence. While internally he was laughing at their cluelessness and the sheer dichotomy, he always made sure to be polite and respectful, doing his best to please as many people as possible.

This was an experiment after all.

The children soon worshipped him as he continued to protect them against other children from outside of the orphanage, and the adult couldn't help but love the polite orphan that kept his fellow children out of trouble.

Tom Riddle was untouchable.

Just as he had planned when he was still too young to move or speak.

Magic soon became his obsession. It was fascinating how the small warmth inside of him could be the cause of so many amazing things. From mundane chores to immortality – magic could make _everything_ possible.

He soon found out that either all wizards were incompetent or that he was merely superior because to him magic came as easy as breathing once he reached a certain age. His magic seemed to be so much more reachable once he became older – it was soon always buzzing beneath his skin, ready for his next command.

He could make people trust him even further by making his magic calm and peaceful, or make adults cower before him in submission by projecting his anger. He had actually ventured out of the orphanage once in the night, and searched for one of the many homeless. Days of meticulous planning had gone into it, after all he had no intention of spoiling the game so soon into its start – and being discovered by anyone really would do exactly that.

It was such a shame that he had been found dead a few days later, body already decomposing. Tom would have liked to experiment a little more.

No one would miss him – and Tom Riddle had used that fact. He was a psychopath and he knew it. The only difference from his previous life was that now he could get away with it. He had been in the public eye, the prodigal son of a politician, majoring in both political science and psychology in order to follow his father's footsteps.

No one knew that he used what he learned about the human psyche by slowly driving one of the girls who had been in love with his slowly insane. That poor girl had actually tried to commit suicide after only three months. Still, he had been restricted during that life – but Tom Riddle was restricted only by his power and imagination. He had both in spades.

He had power – and in the end those who had power ruled over those who had none.

Darwinism was the truth of this world, and Tom had no hesitation in abusing that notion. It wasn't his fault that none could match him – and it certainly wasn't his fault if none could stop him.

After all, Tom Riddle was an angel and in the eyes of everyone who knew him - he could do no wrong.

{2}

Tom climbed out of his small bed, expression faintly disgusted as he took in his small room. He was glad that he would be turning eleven in a few months. He already couldn't wait to escape this hellhole for at least ten months a year.

He was better than those little ants trying to bask in his glory. Sometimes he imagined what kind of face they would make once they realized that they were like moths flying too close to the burning and _brilliant_ flame that would at some point cruelly swallow them whole.

It would certainly be rather amusing and at least stave off his boredom for a while.

At times, it was tiring to continue smiling while he wished nothing more than to kill them slowly for daring to talk to him that familiarly. Arrogance was dangerous – but Tom Riddle was aware of his own superiority. He was beautiful, nothing than those other snot-nosed brats, he was brilliant and powerful and soon enough he would learn even more magic.

While he could practice with his raw magic, it wasn't the same as having magical theory that actually explained his gift. He could levitate books, transfigure smaller and even larger objects – but other pieces of magic firmly remained out of his reach.

He could repair and clean his clothes, even do several pieces of magic at the same time – but it was so frustrating to fail that he had to consciously hold himself back from letting out his anger on others.

His newest objective was the prerequisite to learning Occlumency. The whole process seemed to be reliant on an actual teacher or other aids, so Tom had reluctantly settled with meditation and the ever ambiguous goal to successfully clear his mind.

It was simply _maddening_ because while he thought that he was succeeding and becoming more aware of his mind, he couldn't be sure and it was driving him to new heights of irritability. Hopefully he could at least detect a Legilimancy probe by now.

Suppressing an uncharacteristic snarl – after all Tom Riddle did not snarl – he completed his morning absolutions and plastered his customary fake smile on his face before he silently glided down the old wooden stairs.

No one but Mrs. Cole would be awake at this hour, and Tom often used it to further his own skills in manipulation. It was after all more difficult to manipulate an adult, than it was with a child even if not by far.

Still he couldn't underestimate Albus Dumbledore.

He would be his biggest obstacle in charming both teachers and students alike. His word after all already carried a great deal of weight even without Grindelwald's defeat added to his fame.

Stepping through the empty door space, Tom eased his facial expression slightly into what he knew looked like slight embarrassment, before he hesitantly called out to the matron.

''Mrs. Cole, do you require any assistance?''

The elderly woman turned around with a genuine bright smile that made Tom want to sneer, obviously delighted to see him. Her hair had already turned grey years ago – and the pronounced wrinkles made her age look that much more apparent.

He would never allow himself to look that _weak_ _and frail_.

''No, Tom, my dear boy. I am almost finished with breakfast. But could you please make sure the other children are awake?''

Tom nodded obediently, already expecting the request. With a quick affirmative, he moved back towards the stairs, stepping around the creaking spots with practiced ease as he approached the row of doors. He was the only one who had a private room because of course Tom Riddle was the one who deserved it most. The decision had been unanimous – and showed just how far in his grasp the children were when none protested. Children in orphanages during this time were normally entirely too selfish and greedy to grant other children anything. But he was _Tom Riddle_ – enough said.

He knocked on the first door, opening it slowly as he called a cheerful good morning at the groaning duo of children.

''Morning, Tom.'' One boy called back, looking at him with lidded but devoted eyes and it made something inside of him want to break that little trusting boy. But it wasn't time for that yet.

''Please get up, soon. You know how Mrs. Cole is.'' Tom teased good-naturedly, before closing the door firmly behind him. Only ten more rooms, and after breakfast he could see what his little friends had managed to bring back this time.

Breakfast was usually a relatively quiet affair, everyone too tired to muster up any real energy. Tom smiled politely, accepted the gratitude from the matron graciously – because Tom Riddle was nothing if not humble – before he excused himself to go outside.

He had been curious about his Parseltongue ability, and had experimented with its limitations. Non-magical snakes should from a biological and logical standpoint be entirely unable to actually have a proper conversation – but for some reason their small brain did not play a role when he spoke to them.

According to one small adder, commands of a speaker had to be fulfilled to the best of a snake's capabilities, even if the end result was death. They seemed to leach of his magic which he noticed he emitted when speaking Parseltongue, temporarily making them more intelligent and able to follow complex instructions.

For example, he had sent several snakes out to find him the quickest way to the Leaky Cauldron, and one small Grass snake had actually to his immense surprise succeeded a few weeks ago. She had been able to find it by trying to sense an influx of magic since it was the gateway from the muggle world. He had sent another snake out ten days ago and if everything went correctly she should be back by now.

He had ordered her to remember important landmarks, so that he could revisit Diagon Alley by himself at some point, without having to rely on any professor. Allowing himself to be escorted once was no matter how annoying a necessity for his cover – but not having a way to return on his own would be a folly on his part. And he would undoubtedly return after the dear Professor's visit – because if his guess was correct then it would ease his acceptance into the Noble House of Slytherin exponentially.

The dry ground crunched beneath his feet as he approached a group of small trees behind the building. It was where the snakes usually waited for the honor of being allowed to execute his next command.

Their eagerness was simply adorable.

Leaning against the bark, out of sight of the orphanage, Tom allowed his mask to slip, and the constant smile to leave his face.

His dark blue eyes were narrowed, his lips firm and straight as his whole visage suddenly changed from that of an innocent angel to that of a cruel demon.

 _''_ _My dear one, have you completed your mission?''_ He hissed quietly, not surprised when a small body curled itself around his feet lovingly.

 _''_ _Of course, speaker. I have done as you have commanded.''_

Tom smiled, small but for once genuine as he picked up the small snake, and let it curl around his throat. He was in no danger after all. Snakes would never dare harm him and if any tried, his magic would protect him and eradicate the threat.

 _''_ _Well done, tell me, my dear one how to reach my destination.''_

Tom smirked wickedly, as plans began to form inside his brilliant mind. Everything would start on his eleventh birthday and he couldn't suppress his eagerness anymore.

This time, Tom Riddle would be victorious.

Failure was no option, no matter what he had to do in order to achieve his goals.

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 **A/N So this is a new idea of mine. I simply had to write it down! It's an SI as Tom Riddle attempting to succeed where the previous Tom had failed.**

 **I don't think I've ever read an SI as Tom, so I had to fill that gap – hopefully I've done a decent job so far...**

 **Tell me what you think!**

 **C'ya soon**

 **AriesOrion**


	2. Chapter 2 - Professor Dumbledore

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honor belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

* * *

 **General Warnings:** Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

* * *

 **Summary:** Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equaled survival, and weakness equaled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

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 _Previous chapter:_

 _Tom smiled, small but for once genuine as he picked up the small snake, and let it curl around his throat. He was in no danger after all. Snakes would never dare harm him and if any tried, his magic would protect him and eradicate the threat._

 _''Well done, tell me, my dear one how to reach my destination.''_

 _Tom smirked wickedly, as plans began to form inside his brilliant mind. Everything would start on his eleventh birthday and he couldn't suppress his eagerness anymore._

 _This time, Tom Riddle would be victorious._

 _Failure was no option, no matter what he had to do in order to achieve his goals._

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 **Chapter 2:** Professor Dumbledore

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Albus Dumbledore, transfiguration professor of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry fingered the pale envelope containing one acceptance letter for a certain Tom M. Riddle pensively.

He couldn't help but pity the Muggle-born children living in those run-down and often dingy orphanages, small and weak due to the lack of enough nourishment. Times were hard and often enough those children accepted immediately upon the admittance that the school served three full meals per day.

Walking down the empty street, Albus discreetly added another heating charm to his dark muggle coat, trying to counter the biting wind. This year's January was harsh, but devoid of any snow which Albus sorely missed. Seeing the excitement on the student's faces whenever the powdery white substance stayed on the frozen ground was always a rare treat.

The transfiguration professor curiously approached the St. Wool's orphanage, noting the dirty outer appearance and cracks in the walls.

He knocked firmly on the wooden door, a small smile lightening up his aging face, as he listened to the approaching footsteps.

The door opened with a resounding crackling noise, light spilling outside as the face of an older woman greeted Albus Dumbledore, a curious expression on her weathered face.

''Good morning. My name is Albus Dumbledore. Like previously discussed, I'm here to offer a place at a school for exceptionally gifted children to one Tom Riddle.''

Dumbledore was a little startled at the small proud smile which soon overtook the matron's face.

''For Tom, truly? Good Lord, there is not a single boy I know who would deserve it more. Please do come in, Mr. Dumbledore.''

Albus entered the dark building swiftly, a little surprised at the welcoming manner with which the matron had greeted him with. She seemed quite taken with this young boy.

''Then it is fortunate that he shall receive it.'' Albus agreed amiably, following the elderly muggle woman into the living are, their footsteps interrupting the previous silence. ''Tom is a good lad then?''

The matron nodded, seemingly lost in pleasant memories for a moment, before she turned back towards him. ''Tom has always been special; he's very mature for his age, and often helps me with the other children. Such a polite boy. I'm so happy that he finally gets a a chance to prove himself.''

Inwardly Albus Dumbledore was now rather anxious to meet this boy. He always loved telling the young new students about the world of magic, especially when he knew the children would receive a chance for a better life. He continued to listen to the small tibits the matron shared about this Tom Riddle; how he protected the other students, always eager and ready to help.

''...Tom was born just as the year ended. Truly a blessing.''

Albus's eyebrows vanished below his hairline as he contemplated the last information given to him casually. While Samhain was the night where the change between dark and light alignments happened, the New Year was at least equally as important when talking about ambient magic. It was said that more than two thousand years ago, a powerful warlord had calculated the rise of ambient magic during that particular day and had decided to name it the bridge between the old and new year. It had eventually caught on only a decade later, and was since then celebrated as such.

For a boy to be born on the crux of such an important magical day spoke more than well for the boy's magical potential.

''Tom's room is upstairs, Mr. Dumbledore.''

The Wizard nodded quickly, following the woman up the creaking wooden stairs towards one of the several doors. The matron - and Albus really should have enquired her name - knocked three-times in quick succession before opening the door, a fond smile playing on her lips.

''Tom, there is a Mr. Dumbledore here to meet you. He wants to offer you a place at a school for special students.''

There was a beat of silence before Albus could hear a young but melodious voice answer. ''Thank you, Mrs. Cole. Should I come out?''

Before the matron could answer, Albus smoothly inserted himself into the conversation, stepping behind the matron to take his first peek at his new student. ''No need, Mr. Riddle. May I enter your room?''

Tom Riddle, Albus privately thought was a very beautiful child, especially with that wide-eyed look of childish innocence and curiosity lightening up those normally dark eyes.

''Of course you may, Mr. Dumbledore. Please come in and take a seat.'' Tom Riddle motioned towards the wooden chair and table set, fidgeting slightly as Albus regarded him curiously.

Albus noticed out of the corner of his eye as Mrs. Cole closed the door, throwing one last supportive smile at the lad sitting on his crisply made bed.

A rather rare sight for one so young.

''Well then, Mr. Riddle. Has anything strange ever happened to you?''

-{1}-

''... anything strange ever happened to you?''

Tom Riddle could scarcely believe that this day had finally come. Months and years of preparation just for this very conversation - the first meeting with Albus Dumbledore. The Wizard looked younger than he had imagined; hair still auburn with only the faintest signs of greying. Checking inconspicuously that his magic merely projected a slight feeling of content happiness, Tom reminded himself not to look into the man's eyes for more than a moment, while concentrating firmly on his mask.

He made sure to project a small hesitant amount of confusion onto his face at the unexpected - for any but him - question. ''What do you mean by strange things, sir?''

''Well, my boy. Something strange that you could not explain, a floating object for example.'' Albus Dumbledore explained kindly, an actual twinkle in his blue eyes.

Tom's eyes widened with faked surprise, and he seemed to fidget nervously. Really he was so proud of himself. ''Well...'' He made sure to sound as hesitant as possible, as if entrusting a heavy secret to the older professor. ''Sometimes... sometimes when I really want something, it happens. When I wanted to protect little Claire I was able to make it so that the man didn't seem to notice us any longer, and then there are smaller things.''

Tom made sure to raise his bowed head, frowning as if trying to remember such instances. ''One times I couldn't reach this book and it just flew out of its place on the shelf and sometimes when my clothes are too worn-out I can fix them and make them seem clean again.''

He blushed, as if embarrassed by his rambling, and looked at Dumbledore anxiously. He hoped by mentioning both protecting other people, and transfiguration that Dumbledore would regard him favourably enough that his placement in Slytherin would not make him suspicious.

''Yes, Tom. Those are very good examples. Very advanced accidental magic as well.'' Dumbledore praised and Tom made sure his blush was even more prominent, though he projected the appropriate amount of shook at the word magic.

''Magic, sir? Do...do you mean that it actually exists... I mean...'' He floundered slightly, disbelief evident in both his expression and body language.

''Yes, shall I prove it to you, Tom?'' Dumbledore chuckled amusedly, pulling out his wand in one fluid motion, before a single flick caused a beautiful blue fire to appear between them. The flickering flame merely seemed to hover innocently in front of Tom, beckoning him closer.

''Does...I mean... would it burn me if I...'' Tom stuttered, not even having to fake his excitement. Soon he would be able to do that as well, that and so much _more._

''It would, Tom. While it is beautiful, it is still a flame. Magic can be used for both good and bad. Please remember that, alright?'' Dumbledore vanished the conjured flame, before handing him a pale envelope.

His Hogwarts letter.

Tom eagerly tore open the letter, reading though it in record time before smiling childishly at the professor who was observing him with a small fond smile. Inwardly Tom cackled victoriously - for now Dumbledore seemed to like him, and he was planning on endearing himself even further to the transfiguration professor during their trip to Diagon Alley.

''I... I don't have any money. Can I still come?'' He peered doubtfully at Dumbledore, allowing his excitement to fade as all the implications seemed to occur to him.

''Of course.'' Dumbledore assured the downtrodden boy. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if such a talented student could not reach his full potential just because he lacked money. ''Hogwarts has a fund for students like you. If you have time tomorrow, we could purchase your material at Diagon Alley and I could answer any other question that might crop up.''

''Thank you, sir.'' Tom smiled eagerly, making sure his magic reflected his excitement just in case Dumbledore was looking for any inconsistencies. One could never be too careful after all. ''I can't wait until tomorrow then.''

''Me too, my boy. Me too.'' Dumbledore smiled gently, while Tom noted his new address with a jolt of pleasure - his plan had _worked_ \- and disgust - because he was not anyone's _boy,_ especially not Dumbledore's.

Tom Riddle was sure that tonight he would be able to rest extremely well.

His first meeting with Dumbledore could not have gone any better – and he would ensure that tomorrow would be no different.

-{2}-

Albus Dumbledore returned the next morning, shortly after the clock struck ten. Tom had made sure to wear his best clothes, actually looking relatively well-dressed due to his liberal use of magic – or as well-dressed as an orphan could possibly be during the 1930s.

Tom barely hesitated before grabbing Dumbledore's arm once they were out of sight of the orphanage, mentally preparing himself for the following apparition. It would not do for him to land sprawled on the ground, and look like a fool. Appearances were important, and Tom would milk this opportunity for all it was worth.

Apparation was a disconcerting experience – it was actually comparable to being compressed and pulled through a narrow tube, a slight spin ensuring even more difficulties. However Tom regained his bearings in the fraction of a second that it took for them to cross the whole London, managing to land on his feet with only the slightest hint of disorientation.

Letting go of Dumbledore's arm with an expertly faked confused expression, Tom looked around the small alley they had arrived in. As far as he could tell, they were behind the Leaky Cauldron – and Tom had to suppress the urge to sneer. For one of the main entrances to Diagon Alley to look so run-down was in his opinion blasphemy towards Magic.

''Where are we, Professor?'' Tom questioned cautiously, ''…and how did we get here? Was that like instant transportation?''

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled merrily, ''Well, my boy. Full of questions aren't you? No matter, we are behind the Leaky Cauldron , the entrance from the muggle – non-magical – world, and what I did was indeed very similar to what you called instant transportation. It's called Apparation and you can learn it once you're seventeen years old.''

''I see. Thank you, sir.'' Tom followed Dumbledore as the old man walked towards the brick wall at the end of the small alley, watching as the older wizard tapped several bricks with the tip of his wand. Tom suspected that it was indeed not the wand, but the magic inside of it that caused the next cause of action. Regardless of the fact that he had actually seen it in a movie once, it was still awe-inspiring how the bricks moved into a large arch – allowing both wizards entry.

Tom couldn't contain the thrill shooting through his body, his magic singing in true joy as he beheld the world where he belonged for the first time. Diagon Alley, though rather empty due to the harsh cold, was still filled with several witches and wizards buzzing around the street, doing their business on this January morning.

''Impressive, isn't it Tom.'' Dumbledore chuckled at his only partly faked transfixed figure, walking into the alley forcing Tom to follow him reluctantly. Tom soon realized that he had perhaps even underestimated the influence Dumbledore had over the general public. There were only a few wizards that did not at least greet the Deputy Headmaster with a friendly smile. It would have far reaching consequences if Dumbledore were to openly distrust him, and it only reminded Tom how important it was to not let his mask fall in his vicinity.

Tom remembered to ask the appropriate questions, not letting any of his aggravation show. Tom respected power, and Dumbledore had it, but he personally couldn't stand the man. Too afraid to fall back on the 'dark path' to actually act, instead of advocating peace and second chances followed by redemption.

As Tom listened to Dumbledore talk about the House system, while adding his school books to his trunk where he had already stored his second-hand robes and potions equipment, he nearly laughed out loud in glee as he finally found the opening he had been waiting for the last hour of smiling and nodding and generally being a perfect model student.

''I think I'll be in Slytherin then.'' Tom frowned pensively, fake resolve making him seem older as he spun another of his masterful lies. ''Magic is amazing, Professor Dumbledore. It really is, but it's also really terrifying for someone who hasn't grown up with it, so I think I want to help students like me once I'm able to. I mean…'' Here he trailed off, ducking his head in apparent shyness. He knew it was necessary to fool Dumbledore if he wanted to succeed, but it still aggravated him. He couldn't wait until he was finally able to stop using masks, and show his real self.

It would certainly be a memorable experience, he was sure of it.

''That is a very noble goal, Tom.'' Dumbledore stated approvingly, but gravely. ''Indeed a very ambitious goal, one I feel will better this world.''

Tom literally beamed at the elder wizard, ''Thank you, sir. I'll try my hardest.''

''That, my boy is really all a person can do.'' Dumbledore replied wisely, though Tom felt that if one's best was not enough – that person would just have to improve. Tom certainly wouldn't let any limitations stop him.

''By the way Professor, what is the tall white building?'' Tom motioned towards Gringotts – the nearly impregnable bank run by Goblins.

''Ahhh, eys. That's Gringotts, our bank. It's under the authority of Goblins – a proud warrior race that really quite despises wizards. The bank was funded over thousand years ago by a single Goblin clan who had previously lost their own land against another neighbouring clan. The Goblin rebellions of the last few centuries merely added the other clans to the previously small one, and now it's like an entirely autonomous nation. Goblin law rules inside the bank, so never anger a Goblin, Tom. It could be the last thing you ever do. They are entirely too vicious, but excellent bankers nonetheless.''

Tom nodded politely, but was inwardly smirking. It seemed like his guess held true after all.

''And now, Tom. We will get the most important item for a wizard or witch – their wand.''

Dumbledore led his to Ollivander's, and Tom – regardless of his true age or goals – couldn't help the anticipation he felt. The old door creaked slightly as they entered the small dusty shop, a small three-legged stool sitting innocently in a corner, as shelves upon shelves of wands were revealed to Tom's dark gaze.

The air was saturated by the densest form of ambient magic he had ever felt – though he suspected it would be the same at Hogwarts. It tingled at his senses – neither pleasant nor unpleasant but just _there_.

''Good morning.'' The airy voice caused Tom to jump minutely, as he hadn't felt he others arrival – which was entirely unacceptable in his books. Garrick Ollivander looked to be of a similar age as Dumbledore – with brown hair and tall, but narrow – even spindly – built.

''Albus and…. Mr…''

''Tom Riddle, sir.'' He made sure to keep an expression as innocent as possible – after all first introductions were of untold value. They would never truly leave a person, and changing them would require a large amount of effort and subtle manipulation.

Tom was glad that Ollivander had no intention of making any small talk; his patience for this day was already running dry. Tom obediently waved one wand after the other, noticing how Ollivander kept getting more and more excited the higher the staple of rejected wands got.

''13-inches, made of yew with a core of a phoenix feather. Try it, Mr. Rille.''

Tom could feel the connection he had to the wand even before Ollivander handed it to him. His magic was already reaching out to the object, nudging him to do the very same.

As he grabbed it sparks of all colours lightened the small shop, and Tom almost gasped at the feeling of magic flowing through him, bonding him with his wand. He felt powerful – larger than life and death itself and for a moment his ambition did not seem so far away.

The sensation faded and Tom had to forcefully remind himself that this was only the beginning.

''It seems that your wand possesses the feather of my familiar, my boy. I'm sure Fawkes will be delighted that one of his donations has finally found a master. Yew woods indicates a long life and a talent for duelling, congratulations.''

''It feels incredible…'' Tom breathed, hesitating for a moment as he wondered where to put his wand. He could certainly use magic to stick it to his person, but it seemed too much of a crude method. ''Where should I carry the wand?''

Ollivander smiled at him approvingly, ''Finally a lad with some sense. Some actually put it in their pockets. Fools the lot of them. I can give you a wand holster that you can strap to your forearm – it'll not only make it easer to draw your wand, but helps to keep it safe as well.''

''But I don't have…'' Tom protested, inwardly furious that right now he was poor and dependant on charity. He would have to change that as soon as possible.

''It's alright, my boy. I'll get it for you, consider it a belated birthday present.'' Dumbledore interrupted, and Ollivander quickly grabbed a wand holster made out of leather, handing it to Tom with another absent-minded smile.

''Thank you, sir.'' Tom fastened the holster to his right forearm, inserting his wand carefully. He was more than pleased about how this trip went. He had confirmed several of his guesses, gotten his wand, and Albus Dumbledore seemed entirely taken with him.

Anonymity could often be found in the brightest of spotlights – and Tom would use that fact.

After all, what use was knowledge of the future if one would not use it to further one's own agenda?

It appeared that for all his brilliance – Tom Riddle had missed some obvious clues.

Mistakes he would rectify as quickly as possible.

* * *

 **A/N Well that was rather quick….. Hopefully I'll be able to update again soon enough!**

 **Thank you to all of you who favorited, followed and/or review my story! Suggestions and/or comments are always welcome!**

 **C'ya soon**

 **AriesOrion**


	3. Chapter 3 - Salazar Slytherin

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honor belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

* * *

 **General Warnings:** Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

* * *

 **Summary:** Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equaled survival, and weakness equaled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _''_ _Thank you, sir.'' Tom fastened the holster to his right forearm, inserting his wand carefully. He was more than pleased about how this trip went. He had confirmed several of his guesses, gotten his wand, and Albus Dumbledore seemed entirely taken with him._

 _Anonymity could often be found in the brightest of spotlights – and Tom would use that fact._

 _After all, what use was knowledge of the future if one would not use it to further one's own agenda?_

 _It appeared that for all his brilliance – Tom Riddle had missed some obvious clues._

 _Mistakes he would rectify as quickly as possible._

* * *

 **Chapter 3:** Salazar Slytherin

* * *

Tom Riddle tugged at the hems of his new shirt, a smug sort of satisfaction colouring his features as he felt the fine fabric beneath his fingertips. This is how it was supposed to be – more than a decade of poverty would now finally be over. Tom had spent the last two months reading his textbooks from cover to cover at least once – in some cases even twice depending on what subject they pertained to.

It was amusing really, that he had already covered the whole curriculum in only two months when it was designed to last the whole year. The only reason he had needed as long was because he had actually memorized a large part of those books and because of his little side project, namely improving his appearance for when he finally entered Hogwarts.

He despised the fact that he was driven to outright petty thievery, but then again he hoped that this would be the last time he would have to walk around London, summoning wallets to his person from dirty alleys.

Still, he had managed to buy himself some sets of fine clothes that would make him appear respectable instead of invoking the sort of distant pity most people felt towards the countless orphans in London.

Mrs. Cole easily believed that Tom had gotten the money from his new school, and Dumbledore would hopefully believe that his carefully mentioned transfiguration talent was responsible for the change.

Tom had carefully collected enough money, so that he could not only buy himself some new clothes and other important living utensils, but have enough left-over to convert into galleons.

He was currently standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron, irritated at the long time it had taken him to reach his goal.

Transportation was not as widespread as in several decades, nor were maps – so Tom had to improvise by walking several miles into a respectable neighbourhood, before somehow managing to convince a taxi driver to allow an eleven-year old child to make the trip alone.

That he appeared relatively wealthy probably helped matters greatly.

It had been entirely too easy, but Tom still felt like he had wasted the last two hours of his life – plus the taxi had been rather costly. He still couldn't risk outright changing someone's mind - he would have to actually practice his crude ideas for that at some point during the next few months.

He entered the black building, stuck between a café and a bookstore without any hesitation, the door feeling heavy beneath his hands as he opened it – only for his dark eyes to take in the medium sized pub swiftly, his eyes lingering for a moment on the people inside of it, before he slipped in unnoticed, his magic aiding him subtly in his attempt for stealth.

It wouldn't be good for him if anyone caught him in the alley and told Dumbledore. Perhaps Tom was entirely too paranoid, but he had learned in his last life that some caution never went remiss. The fewer questions Dumbledore had about him – the better.

Tom walked towards the backdoor confidently, looking for all the world like he was supposed to be here – a useful tactic to throw any one suspicious or well-meaning off. People rarely questioned those who walked with a purpose.

It was only moments later that Tom reached the same place Dumbledore had apparated them to, the dark alley as dirty as before. Still, it was an accomplishment, no matter how small. Remembering to put on one of his school robes that he had kept in a bundle previously – fixed to appear normal, if not a little worn – Tom brushed the last of imaginary dirt off, a small smile as always fixed on his face.

Concentrating his magic in his right index finger, Tom carefully tapped the same sequence of bricks that Dumbledore did, watching in satisfaction as the archway appeared to let him through into Diagon Alley.

Confidently strolling into the Alley, Tom did not even pause top look around, instead he headed into the direction of the tall white marble building – Gringotts. It was simple logic, really. Tom was descended from Salazar Slytherin through the Gaunts – which meant that there was a possibility – no matter how remote - that he would be able to inherit, or access at least _something_. Wizards – or even witches for that matter – did not seem the type to actually check whether they had any money beside their own vaults. Despicable or not, the Gaunts were still purebloods and should have ties to other families.

It was along shot, but worth a try at least – and he may get proof of his heritage which would always be a plus. With polyjuice and glamours available in the Wizarding World, it was more than likely that Gringotts had a way to not only authenticate someone, but possibly link them to an existing vault. Goblins should not be able to profit from a locked and unused vault – but then again he knew next to nothing about the traditions and laws in this world, something he would have to rectify as soon as possible.

Nodding politely, but curtly at the guards outside the entrance Tom entered the enormous building, taking heed of the warning printed, finding it entirely ironic that the other Tom Riddle had done exactly the opposite.

The entrance hall was rather imposing, with countless counters manned by the short race of Goblins. It was still morning, so Tom headed to the only free teller – a Goblin named Snarkhook who was busy reading a report of some kind.

Tom – who knew bankers and businessman exceedingly well from his previous life – waited patiently for the Goblin to acknowledge him. To interrupt would be considered rude and uncultured and lose Tom the chance to make a favourable first impression on the warrior race.

Who was stupid enough to alienate their bankers after all?

Finally the Goblin looked down from his counter, an unfriendly scowl morphing his features into something dangerous – but Tom saw the grudging curiosity in those beady eyes, and knew that he had at least partly succeeded.

''Yes, wizard. What do you want?'' Snarhook ground out, voice gravely and rough.

''I would like to know whether I have a heritage and/or a vault at this bank. Is there a possibility that this bank might offer such a service?'' Tom replied polity, not letting the Goblin intimidate him in any way. If he did, he would have lost any respect he might have gained.

It was a delicate process – one he was luckily intimately familiar with. Perhaps his father had been good for something after all.

''Gringotts does indeed offer such services, but it is exceedingly expensive since the process uses rare ingredients. A hundred galleons, amounting in muggle currency to over 800 pounds.'' The Goblin's tone was faintly apologetic, even while those dark eyes seemed to judge his worth based on the answer given to this challenge.

It was obvious that he was muggle-raised if he did not know his ancestry and 800 pounds was more money that he currently had. Times were difficult, so no person carried much money with them - the Goblins would surely know this as well

Tom had a little more than 300 pounds with him, which was a little more than half of what he had actually stolen. And it had taken him a long time to gather all that money.

What to do… Ah, yes… Goblins were apparently all for making a profit…

''Then would Gringotts be interested in a small wager? If I do have a vault I can use, then I would pay Gringotts an additional fifty galleons. If I don't, I will simply give Gringotts all the money I have on me right now, which amounts to roughly 340 pounds. I know for certainty that my mother had a magical heritage…'' Tom suggested slyly, inwardly grinning at the calculating look now present in Sbarkhooks eyes. The Goblin was apparently thinking about his proposal, the comment about his mother would increase the Goblin's chance at profit which is why Tom had chosen to divulge that information.

''75 additional galleons.'' Snarkhook eventually agreed, a grudging sport of respect forming in the Goblin's mind. It had been a long time since he had last met such a promising young wizard.

Tom weighed the pros and cons in his mind, before he answered. ''Agreed, an additional 75 Galleons sound fair enough.''

''Name?'' The Goblin grinned toothily at him, a rather dreadful sight as he gestured something to another Goblin sitting behind the counter next to him.

''Tom Marvolo Riddle, a pleasure to do business with you.'' Tom watched as Snarkhook vacated his counter, gesturing him to follow the Goblin to a small unassuming door behind the row of counters.

Tom quickly lost all sense of direction as they walked through the various passageways – one way more convoluted than the other. They briefly stopped before a metal door, a crest of some kind engraved in the material. Tom assumed it was Snarkhook's clan crest – a belief which was strengthened when the aforementioned Goblin nicked himself briefly on a small sharp bump and the door slowly opened.

The Goblin walked behind the large mahogany desk which was littered with parchments, seating himself on the comfortable looking chair. Tom – instead of gawking like some sort of imbecile – merely took a seat across the creature, mentally storing all the information he had acquired about the Goblin race in the last few minutes.

So far, so good.

''Mr. Riddle, this ritual uses the inherent magic in your blood and compares it to the samples of magic saved in this bank. Needless to say the how does not matter in this moment – important is that the potion you add seven drops of your blood to is linked to the bank and if your magic is compatible with one of the vaults, we will know.''

Snarkhook handed him a small ornate dagger and a small vial of a reddish coloured potion, and Tom nicked himself with the sharp blade without hesitation, eager to see if the gamble he took paid off.

The potion sizzled as the drops were added, turning gold after several heartbeats of anticipatory silence – and Tom turned towards the Goblin, belatedly realizing that he didn't even know what this meant.

Tom inwardly scowled – he had let his excitement overwhelm him and had abandoned his usual approach and he didn't like it.

''Congratulations, Mr. Riddle. It seems that you do possess a vault which you can use. Now you merely have top pour the potion over an empty enchanted parchment…'' Snarkhook pushed an old, yellow parchment over to his side of the desk, and Tom tipped the vial sideways, watching as the golden liquid began to cover the parchment, forming words of dark ink.

 _Tom Marvolo Riddle_

 _Vault 24 – previous owner: Salazar Slytherin (ancestor)_

 _Designation: personal vault_

 _Inheritance requirement: specified by Salazar Slytherin (ancestor)_

Tom could hardly believe his eyes – he had come to the bank in hopes of obtaining some kind of money – a mere idea which he wasn't even dependant on, but could make this life easier.

But this… Did the previous Tom Riddle ever know that he could inherit such a vault? Somehow he doubted it – Tom Riddle had been too angry at every- and anything, at the whole world to think rationally in some cases. He must have just assumed due to the state of the Gaunt's that all the Slytherin money was gone and therefore felt no need to do such a test.

''How very interesting….'' Snarkhook mused thoughtfully, a small shark-like smirk on his face, ''personal vaults are separated from the family vault and often have a specific requirement for inheritance, like magic compatibility which can include one's natural alignment, or even personality.''

''I see.'' Tom replied, his usual eloquence briefly leaving him as he contemplated all the possibilities. How very _delightful_ this day was turning out to be. ''Then I would like to visit my vault, and remove some money.''

''Of course, young heir.''

Yes, this day was turning out to be so much better than expected. Tom could hardly wait for the beginning of September.

The House of Snakes would belong to him soon enough.

...{1}...

The visit to his vault had been the highlight of his rather short second life. It hadn't been the small pile of gold, which had delighted him so, but the countless tomes stored in the vault, especially the small journal he suspected could even be Slytherin's personal diary.

If there was one thing he wholeheartedly agreed with, it was the phrase: Knowledge is power.

For now, Tom had merely taken a few books designated in old English as beginner guides to several studies such as runes and warding – in addition to a heavily enchanted ring lying on a stone pedestal in the middle of the vault.

According to the small note next to it – the ring could be used as a small storage unit in addition to protecting the wearer. The ring was a simple silver band with a small emerald stone – turning invisible as soon as he had put it on his finger.

Tom suspected the vault served as Slytherin's personal library – coupled with some of his funds. The vault had perhaps contained two or three thousand Galleons, a hefty sum – but ultimately no more than a decent starting capital, yet still enough for him to purchase new robes, a new enchanted trunk, and several other books he was interested in.

Tom needed to have knowledge about the culture, laws, traditions and common knowledge he was still unaware of. A weakness which could be exploited far too easily.

Tom entered the bookstore – Flourish and Books – swiftly, already having a list of necessary books in his head as he strolled through the rows of books, eyes flickering curiously over the various fields of study.

Tom Riddle craved knowledge with a fervour which surprised even him – had he ever been so passionate about anything in his former life? He doubted it – magic had become his obsession during the last decade and those books contained the key to developing his own powers.

Transfiguration, Defence against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Arithmancy, Runes…. Any and everything was new and exciting to read about – to witness. Tom made sure to grab some supplementary texts and more advanced books on those subjects, not wanting to be bored in Hogwarts, before collecting several books on etiquette, laws, customs and traditions. Since he would most definitely end up in Slytherin with the purebloods it would do him no favours to be ignorant of the new world he was entering.

He would be able to prove himself either way, but why make things harder than they needed to be?

His stack of books he wished to buy was already quite impressive and Tom concluded that he should most likely wrap up his day as soon as possible. He had already stayed away from the orphanage for quite some time, and even though Mrs. Cole was easily persuaded Tom had made it a habit to at least appear as if he respected her authority.

After all, Tom Riddle never did anything wrong.

The woman tallying his books smiled at him in indulgent amusement as she enchanted his purchase to shrink and become nearly weightless. She probably thought he was an over-achiever and bookworm – what a disgrace.

Still, Tom smiled a polite small smile, hiding his irritation as he bade her a respectful farewell. Privately, Tom contemplated on all the humiliating things he could make her do.

The possibilities magic provided him with – how utterly priceless.

He really had to test to what extent he could forcefully manipulate one's mind with magic. Well, he still had several months and until then…. The homeless in London would just have to do.

This was only the beginning after all.

...{2}...

Tom perused another page of a small book with an old dark brown leather cover with rapt attention. Out of all the books he had read or merely peaked into during the last few weeks - this diary was still by far his most favorite. It wasn't because it explained some impressive magic, but due to the vast amount of pages dedicated to Hogwarts and its many secrets.

Tom already knew about the Chamber of Secrets and the Room of Requirement - so no surprises there - but apparently the castle still contained so many secret rooms that Salazar Slytherin merely hinted at in vague and cryptic manners. Tom had roughly translated the old language, one reason why he was still not even through a quarter of the book and the passage was already branded in his mind.

 _The room housing mine contains a room where the king presides. I have built it according to the oldest and most holy of religions. If you do read this, inheritor of mine - I will tell you this. It can only be opened by those who understand and seek the truth of magic._

It obviously pertained to the Slytherin dorms in some manner and was rather important. But for the life of him, Tom couldn't understand the rest. What was the truth of magic and what was meant by kings presiding in that room?

Tom felt his magic curl around his form in pure anticipation, like a predator fixated on his new prey and Tom knew that he had found his first year project.

He would find that room, no matter what.

If a king was needed, he would become one and if one needed the truth of magic he would simply have to discover the very core of what had become his obsession.

It was that simple.

Tom wouldn't let anything stand in his way - because Tom Marvolo Riddle would become great - greater than anything before him.

Failure was simply no option.

* * *

 **A/N So this is chapter Nr. 3. Hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Thank you to all of you who either favorited, followed or reviewed my story!**

 **Btw. SI means Self-insert, basically you either insert yourself or some fictional person from our world into the Harry Potter world!**

 **C'ya soon**

 **AriesOrion**


	4. Chapter 4 - Hogwarts Express

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honor belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

* * *

 **General Warnings:** Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

* * *

 **Summary:** Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equaled survival, and weakness equaled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _Tom felt his magic curl around his form in pure anticipation, like a predator fixated on his new prey and Tom knew that he had found his first year project._

 _He would find that room, no matter what._

 _If a king was needed, he would become one and if one needed the truth of magic he would simply have to discover the very core of what had become his obsession._

 _It was that simple._

 _Tom wouldn't let anything stand in his way - because Tom Marvolo Riddle would become great - greater than anything before him._

 _Failure was simply no option._

* * *

 **Chapter 4:** **Hogwarts Express**

* * *

Tom bared Mrs. Cole's teary well-wishes with carefully hidden disgust. It was finally September – and Tom would embark towards his first year at Hogwarts in the next few moments. His excitement and the small smile on his face were for once not faked, as he walked through the old entrance door, waving one last time at the matron and his fellow orphans. The children had been unbearably annoying during the last few weeks, always begging for his attention and never leaving him to his peace.

During the last few months, Tom had come far indeed. His grasp on the main areas of magic exceeded the first year easily – though the knowledge remained theoretical for now. Tom could neither use his wand, nor his wandless magic at the orphanage, so he had merely practiced the wand movements while visualizing the spell.

Still, while Tom could not use his wand – _at all_ – his wandless magic was still fair game as long as he was far away enough from his current residence. The monitoring charms were apparently cast on both the wand, and the orphanage, so as long as he stayed clear of those he could still use magic.

A convenient loophole he had thoroughly exploited. His main focus had been the mind arts – Tom had found several pages on both Occlumecy and Legilimency in the diary and while not very comprehensive – they did give him enough insight to experiment a little.

Occlumecy involved manipulating the magic in your mind to do your bidding, like building shields; while Legilimency infused a probe of your mind magic into another's mind and extracted information through that link.

Admittedly Tom hadn't gotten very far during the last few months but he had made progress – enough to be able to safely use a crude version on muggles without their minds breaking down from the strain of his magic. The first time he tried it at the end of April – Tom had utterly crushed that fool's mind due to his lack of finesse.

He imagined the drooling mess was what a Dementor's victim would look like. Tom – not wanting anyone to recognize the involvement of magic by accident– had in a moment of rare frustration willed his magic to make that man disappear and like always it had obeyed.

It had been the first time he had killed someone personally – and the excitement cursing through his body afterwards – the smug superiority – had more than proved to him once again that he would have absolutely no problem going forwards with his goals.

Tom barely even noticed the conversation he was having with the cab driver – too caught up in his own thoughts. It was only when after a little more than an hour, the car stopped for the last time that Tom finally snapped out of his reverie, smiling at the elderly man that had driven him to King's cross. Tom had told Mrs. Cole that it was a service provided by the school while in truth Tom had ordered and paid for it with his left-over stolen muggle money.

''Here you go, son.'' The driver heaved the trunk out the car, handing it to Tom with a barely noticeable grimace. His new trunk was made up of a dark mahogany wood – simple but elegant – with several enchantments and a password protected secret space. It was perfect for him.

''Thank you, sir. Have a good day.'' Activating the feather-light feature of his trunk with a mere brush of his magic Tom turned around towards the tightly packed railroad station, heading right towards the clearly visible number 9.

It wasn't particularly difficult to find the platform 9 ¾ - the front of the brick wall was clear of any muggles – a small space being seemingly empty for no reason at all.

A muggle repelling charm perhaps?

Tom did not pause to wait on the platform like the rest of the families, instead boarding the bright red train immediately. He had no wish to listen to the irritating noise of cried farewells any longer. Figuring the last compartment on the train would mean the most silence at least for a while; Tom entered the small space before he closed the door and promptly changed out of his muggle clothes.

After a small moment of hesitation, Tom grabbed one of the few books he hadn't read yet – Arithmancy: Numeris et Formulae – before he levitated his trunk onto the rack and sat down on one of the seats in front of the window.

He was so engrossed in the book that he barely noticed his compartment door opening half an hour later.

''Are those seats taken?''

Tom looked up from his book, only years of practice preventing him from showing his elation. What sheer luck he had… perhaps Magic wanted him to succeed if he was being rewarded so constantly by good fortune.

The boy standing in the door was clearly a first-year like him, with expensive and finely-tailored robes, black hair and grey narrow eyes - obviously a pure-blood of some status.

''Not particularly, feel free to sit down.'' Tom replied, a charming smile already tilting at his lips. He was not one to waste opportunities presented to him.

The boy nodded, depositing his own trunk in the rack easily before he sat down opposite to Tom, observing him with a look full of rather well-hidden curiosity.

''Orion Black. I do not believe we have ever met before.'' The Black heir introduced himself, eyes flickering from Tom's face to the closed book now lying on the seat next to Tom.

''Tom Marvolo Riddle, the pleasure is all mine.''

Tom couldn't help but narrow his eyes at the way Orion Black grimaced faintly, as if it pained him that he had sat down across from him.

''Half-blood?'' He questioned haughtily, and in that moment Tom made a split-second decision. He had never planned to hide his blood status, and was therefore aware that there would be some trouble. Best to nip that in the bud as quickly as possible...

''What would it matter, Orion Black if I was?'' Tom leaned forwards slightly, his charming smile morphing into a cold smirk as he let his magic roam freely in the small compartment, directing it mercilessly towards the rude brat who had dared to look at him like he was _inferior_. ''It is not the blood that counts, but the magic flowing inside of it. Power is power, no matter the source… and right now magically speaking you do not hold a candle to what I possess. So be careful what you say next.''

Tom pulled his magic back into his body, charming smile already transforming his expression back to that of the ever-respectful Tom Riddle as he regarded the other boy staring at him with wide eyes.

Now time to see if his gamble had paid off.

…{1}…

Orion Black, as the heir to the House of Black had always been at the top of the food chain. He was cunning, ambitious and intelligent – the perfect pureblood heir. He was a _Black,_ and Blacks did not bow.

But the moment that magic was swirling around him, thickening the air with its mere presence as it pressed down upon him, Orion for the first time in his life felt what it was like to submit to another. Tom Riddle's magic was strong, but most importantly it was _dark_.

As a Black Orion knew the darker side of magic intiminately - the very House he was living in was steeped in Dark Magic. But he had never felt such pure dark magic from anyone - let alone his age.

It was impressive. It was awe-inspiring. It was _exhilerating_.

As those dark stormy eyes bored into his widened grey-one's mercilessly, and the goosebumbs littering his skin vanished together with that tantalizing magic, Orion knew that this moment was _important._

His parents had raised him to be someone who was able to recognize opportunities when he saw them - no matter if he was still eleven years old. Tom Riddle might not be a pure-blood, but he was clearly superior when it came to magic. And dark families valued power above everything. There was power in political influence, in money, connections and blood - but Orion had never felt this overwhelming power in magic before.

Orion knew that if this gamble failed, he would be sidelined in Slytherin for years. He would bring shame upon his family, but thinking of that magic boring down on him - that strenght visible in those slightly glowing eyes, Orion knew with a breath-taking clarity that he would regret this forever if he did not act now.

So Orion Black clenched his fists, and prayed to Mother Magic for guidance.

...{2}...

''I apologize for my previous conduct. It was unbecoming.''

Tom Riddle regarded the Black heir silently - _probingly_ \- searching for any hint of deception, any sign that the apology was not geniune, and relaxed when he came up wanting.

It seemed like his gamble had paid off after all.

''Apology accepted, so let us start again. My name is Tom Riddle, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.''

Orion smiled in relief, and Tom resisted the urge to show his amusement. It seemed like he had truly rattled the Black heir.

''I'm Orion Black, heir to the House of Black.'' Tom chuckled warmly, observing as a small amount of pink creeped onto Orion's pale face - before the boy seemed to steady himself. ''Are you interested in Arithmancy?''

Tom humored the boy's curiosity now that the Black heir seemed to have understood the difference in power. ''Not especially, but there are a few interesting concepts. This book here explains rather thoroughly how one can use numbers in conjunction with spellwork to calculate the concentration of ambient magic at any particular time.''

It was a small mark in the boy's favor that he actually seemed to think about what he had just said, before spouting unfounded drivel.

''How accurate would those calculations be?'' Orion asked, real curiosity lightening up his grey eyes. The Black heir had leaned forward in his seat minutely, listening to Tom with rapt attention.

''It depends on how complete your calculations are - how thorough one was with their research about events such as large amounts of magical discharge, or other factors - and how precise and powerful the caster is. Well, it's pretty much impossible to factor everything in, but one can get reasonably close. But then again what I believe is most important is simply the caster's will.''

Tom had discovered years ago what the most important factor was when casting any spell - even wandless one's. Tom was more than pleased when Orion cut directly to the heart of the matter with his next question.

''What do you mean by the caster's will?''

Tom send a small pulse of magic to his wand holster, catching his yew-phoenix wand with practiced ease. ''Let me show you. One of the first spells we learn is Lumos. It's a simple spell involving no specific wand movements, and only a small amount of magic. How would you go about casting it?''

Orion furrowed his brows in confusion. ''I would do the spell by using the given incantation.''

''But that, Orion...'' Tom ignored how Orion perked up as he used his name for the first time. ''...is where the mistake lies. It is true that the incantation spoken out loud shapes our magic into the wanted form. But those words are merely a crutch. The tip of your wand does not light up because you said Lumos, but because you intimately know that Lumos means light and visualize it without even realizing it.''

Tom raised his wand, ''Lumos.'' The tip glowed with a white light, and Tom felt a brief flare of victory at his first successful spell with his wand. ''Now I could channel more magic into the spell...'' The tip glowed a nearly blinding white, before Tom clearly pronounced the counter spell. ''Nox.''

Orion was still following his every move, and Tom could see the respect built with every word coming out of his mouth. Tom knew that honey would catch more flies than vinegar, but above fear or love, it was respect which he was aiming to inspire.

''Now, I could do the very same thing without the incantation.'' Tom did excatly that, a blindingly white light filling the compartment once more before Tom extinguished the spell easily.

''Amazing... that was silent casting. We won't learn that until the end of sixth year...'' Orion breathed out, but Tom wasn't finished yet.

''True, but this is where it gets interesting. Wingardium Leviosa.'' Tom watched in satisfaction when the tip of his wand glowed once more.

''But you clearly used another incanation.'' Orion mused thoughthtfully, ''So does that mean one could yell one incantation in a duel and fire another spell entirely.''

''Excatly, Orion.'' the Black heir seemed pleased with Tom's honest praise. ''That is the crux of the manner. It is the caster's will - what we _want_ the spell to be - that ultimately decides what it _is_. That is what I meant previously. Of course there is the possibility...'' Tom trailed off, raising his left hand as he concentrated on visualizing the same small ball of light in the cup of his palm.

It was extremely satisfying for Tom to see the glowing light in the palm of his hand, no matter how proficient he was at wandless magic. The only reason Tom was even being so uncharacteristically open with Orion was because the Black heir was going to be a pivotal piece in his chess game to conquer the House of Slytherin and the more impressed he was by Tom, the more he would risk to stay by his side. It would take time to transform this respect to loyalty, but this was already more than he thought he could accomplish during his train ride to Hogwarts.

''...of not using either incantation or one's wand.''

Orion Black's gaze seemed to be filled with pure unbriddeled amazement, and Tom smiled. The Black heir was by now truly caught in his web. After all, no matter how mature or well-trained, an eleven year old simply could not match up to his countless yeras of experience, especially since Orion had unconsciouly let down some of his guard when dealing with someone his own age.

During the next hours of the train ride Tom was surprised to find out that he actually liked Orion Black. The Black heir was intelligent, cunning, had a ruthless streak a mile wide from what stories he told Tom about his childhood and clearly respected Tom's authority.

Tom felt the train slow down just as they were about to discuss the finer points of brewing, so he levitated both of their trunks down, depositing his book back into his trunk just as the Hogwarts Express stopped moving. Both waited for the worst to be over, before they exited the compartment.

Tom glided gracefully towards the elderly man holding a latern, Orion walking on his right as they fell in line with other first-year students.

''Follow me, first year students and watch out. Don't want any of you covered in mud when we get to the castle.''

The first year students all trailed behind the man Tom suspected could even be a professor. Luckily, it hadn't rained during the last few days, so the slope was a lot easier to manage than it could have been.

The sun had already set hours ago, and the nearly full moon illuminated their path hazily. Few words were spoken during the way down, and soon the small group arrived at the shore, several wooden boats already waiting for them.

Tom gracefully jumped into one boat, landing near soundlessly before he sat down, watching as Orion Black copied him without pause. Following him were a pair of what Tom deduced could only be twins based on their similarities. Both had brown hair, and green eyes - and the same delicate features. Some might call them cute, but Tom could see the sharpness in their eyes, honed like a well-forged blade as they regarded him silently.

''Tom Marvolo Riddle, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.'' Tom smiled charmingly, pressing a feather-light kiss to the offered hand of the girl according to the pureblood customs.

Their eyes narrowed when they heard his name, but seemed disinclined to comment on his blood status. Tom suspected it was Orion's silent approval of him that stayed their actions.

''Well, well... I'm Darian Carrow, and my sister is Alyria Carrow.'' The male twin answered cheerily, his friendly and cheerful personality a stark contrast to both the look of his eyes. Darian Carrow seemed to hide his cunning beneath that persona, yet Tom was able to see right through it. After all, he had the advatage of mentally being decades older. Still those twins intrigued him in the same way Orion Black did.

Their magic was dark, and the name Carrow was familiar to him.

Alyria Carrow seemed to have the opposite persona of her twin. She seemed ice cold where Darian would burn fiercly. So it didn't surprise Tomn when she did not say anything, merely observing their interactions.

In the span of the next minutes as they crossed the lake, and Tom finally had the chance to see Hogwarts in all its magnificent spendor, he had already decided that he would make the twins join him.

This day would mark the beginning to his path of conquest and destruction.

After all, he would let nothing stand in his way.

* * *

 **Sorry it took me so long to update. I've been quite busy during the last few weeks/months and haven't had the time to really write anything. Hope you like the newest chapter!  
**

 **C'ya soon**

 **AriesOrion**


	5. Chapter 5 - House of the Snakes

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honor belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

* * *

 **General Warnings:** Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

* * *

 **Summary:** Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equalled survival, and weakness equalled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _Their magic was dark, and the name Carrow was familiar to him._

 _Alyria Carrow seemed to have the opposite persona of her twin. She seemed ice cold where Darian would burn fiercely. So it didn't surprise Tom when she did not say anything, merely observing their interactions._

 _In the span of the next minutes as they crossed the lake, and Tom finally had the chance to see Hogwarts in all its magnificent splendour, he had already decided that he would make the twins join him._

 _This day would mark the beginning to his path of conquest and destruction._

 _After all, he would let nothing stand in his way._

* * *

 **Chapter 5:** **House of the Snakes**

* * *

If Tom would have believed in any higher power be it God or the Devil, then he would have thanked them by now. But then again, he had magic right now, so perhaps he should show Mother Magic his appreciation at some point in time – namely by showing everyone how wondrous it truly was.

Tom was a firm believer of learning from experience. He had lived a life without magic, lived it to adulthood – lived it _well_ – so he could judge the miracle that magic truly was more clearly than any witch or wizard alive, including Muggleborns.

But he digressed. It was just that everything was going so perfectly well, that Tom couldn't help but think that some sort of higher power had to be involved. Just what were the chances that he found three eleven year old children – that he actually _liked_ – before he even entered Hogwarts? Children from dark families that were clearly starting to be intrigued by him – respect him – even with the stigma of being a half-blood.

Orion Black being in the same cabin as him on the train ride was clearly a blessing. The Black heir was perhaps instrumental in the easy acceptance of both Carrows. Tom knew he could have won them over regardless – one way or another – but it spared him precious time. Just for that his opinion of Orion rose.

During the boat ride, all four had gotten to know each other better – and Tom had been reluctantly amused by the antics of the twins. Probing him – testing him – all the while also subtly probing Orion for his stance regarding him.

But no matter how well-trained and careful those children were – they were still that, only children. Tom wasn't. He didn't have the disadvantages of youth – he had foresight, control over his emotions, yet most of all he had experience that those youths lacked.

So it wasn't difficult for him to redirect their enquiries, turning them around while pretending not to, and when he let them discover it only minutes later – their respect for him grew. After all, they had not even noticed him leading them around their noses, and for pureblood heirs that was a disgrace indeed.

Hogwarts – he inwardly noticed – was a beautiful castle; all ragged edges and thrumming magic. The entrance foyer was wide and tall, giving the new students a slightly intimidating feeling.

Tom was relaxed, looking vaguely amused as he saw even the composed Black and Carrow heirs shifting nervously.

''Calm down, Orion.'' Tom murmured, arching one eyebrow as he saw the dark-haired child look around with hidden nervousness yet another time.

''I'm trying.'' Orion muttered, regarding Tom's composed manner enviously. Even his parents had not told him about how the students were getting sorted, so Orion couldn't shake off his nerves. What if he didn't get sorted into Slytherin?

''All of us will be sorted into Slytherin, and that's that. No need to be worried about it.'' Tom stated with absolute certainty. He knew that all four of them personality wise could not go anywhere else but Slytherin – they were all too cunning and ruthless for any other house. Plus the hat took one's own wishes into consideration.

His absolute confidence seemed to make Orion, Darian, and even the cold-faced Alyria relax almost unconsciously.

''How can you be so sure, Tom?'' Darian asked, his green eyes slightly narrowed.

Tom didn't let his annoyance at being questioned show. The Carrow twins did not know anything of his capabilities, unlike Orion, so he could forgive them for that.

''Just think about it, Darian. The sorting apparently happens based on personality traits, and since muggle-born students can't know any magic yet – it's obviously not a factor. Which means, since it has to be fair, they will most likely sort us without us having to do anything. Otherwise the discrepancy between muggle-raised and magic-raised will be too severe. Therefore, since each of us possesses predominantly Slytherin traits, there is no way for us not to get into our chosen house.''

Darian nodded, looking contemplative. ''Makes sense, Tom. Alyria what do you think?'' He turned towards his twin sister, grin already back on his lips. Honestly Darian was impressed with Tom Riddle. He was still curious what the boy must have said or done to get Orion Black – the Black heir – to back him like that.

But slowly he was starting to understand. In the few minutes he had known the boy, he had already found himself starting to respect him. Tom just seemed so different – _special_ – excluding such a strange kind of confidence that he couldn't help but admire. Even they – pureblood heirs that they were – were far more nervous than Tom was.

Darian was truly starting to think that Orion clearly had the right idea by backing him so thoroughly even at great risk.

''I agree.'' Alyria finally replied when she noticed that all three pairs of eyes were on her. ''In order to maintain fairness, it is highly probable that we actually don't have to do anything.''

Her voice was clipped and cold, or as icy as an eleven-year old could possibly be. And Tom was sure that in a few years she would be called an Ice-Queen – beautiful to behold, but deadly to the touch.

What interesting children he had managed to gather around him.

Still, Tom was curious about the sorting. He really wondered what the Sorting Hat would say to him.

It didn't take long for the imposing door to open up, showing them the first glimpse of Hogwarts' interior, as warm light spilled into the cold room. They all lined up, and walked into the Great Hall.

Tom had to admit that it greatly resembled what was shown in the movies. It was an enormous hall, the four house tables seemingly going on forever, as all eyes were focused on them alone. He didn't let it phase him, instead he observed the other students in turn.

The Gryffindors were craning their necks boldly, seeming in high spirits. The Hufflepuff table merely watched them with curiosity, while Ravenclaw seemed to study them intensely. But the most interesting reaction was from the Slytherin table, as all students – some better than others – appeared to be entirely uninterested in the happenings, while still managing to observe everything.

This was why Tom would accept nothing else but Slytherin. It was just too interesting to pass up such an opportunity.

Tom tuned out the explanation Dumbledore gave to the students regarding the hat, already knowing what was being said. He only paid attention once the first name was being called.

''Abbot, Elisa.'' Dumbledore's voice rang through the silent hall, and Tom watched a small eleven-year old brown haired and rather unremarkable girl step forward hesitantly, putting the hat on with visibly trembling hands.

It didn't take long for the sorting hat to open its tear, crying out the chosen house. ''Hufflepuff!''

It continued like that, Tom watching attentively as the other students got sorted. Orion, Darian and Alyria were sorted into Slytherin as expected.

He let the noise wash over him, only peripherally categorizing the new students, it didn't take long for Dumbledore to arrive at his name.

''Tom Riddle!''

Tom practically glided towards the rickety stool, all lithe grace and cool composure. Sitting down equally gracefully with a fluid grace born of years of experience – Tom refrained from jumping in surprise when the sorting hat's voice flickered in his mind.

 _''_ _Oh, oh, oh! How positively interesting, you are, Tom Riddle. A reincarnated soul with such potential…''_

The hat trailed off, its ragged appearance mirrored in its voice.

 _''…_ _such dangerous potential you have, Tom Riddle. Dangerous, and yet intriguing. There is really only one House available for one such like you. I do hope that your presence will bring what Mother Magic is wishing for.''_

With the last cryptic response, the hat ripped open its tear widely. ''Slytherin!''

Tom allowed himself a small upturn of his lips, handing the hat to Dumbledore with a slightly wider smile, before heading towards the politely clapping Slytherin table. Though it did not fool him. Many Slytherin's were clearly not happy with someone like him – a seeming mudblood – joining them.

Well, that would have to change soon enough.

Tom caught Orion's eye, and seated himself next to the Black heir, receiving nods of acknowledgement and congratulations from both of the Carrow heirs. Talking was postponed in favour of watching the rest of the sorting. There were a nearly thirty new students, seven of them in Slytherin. Eileen Prince, Cassius Lestrange, Theodred Nott, and Alexander Avery were all first years, all of them also dark purebloods, if not outright heirs.

It was clear enough that as a Black Orion held some sway over the other purebloods and his amiable behaviour towards Tom made for pleasant enough conversation during the welcoming feast.

Eileen Prince seemed to be on relatively good terms with Alyria, as Tom had seen them chatting quietly a few times. Lestrange and Nott – while perhaps not as intelligent as Orion – seemed to pick up on enough subtle cues to treat Tom with a certain wary respect. Avery on the other hand, Tom would have to teach some manners at some point. The brat was clearly beyond arrogant without enough ability to back up his hateful looks and muttered insults. Though Tom had some fun insulting him without him even noticing, clearly earning some respectful glances at how easily he outmanoeuvred Avery.

Soon enough, Headmaster Dippet stood from his ornate chair, small potbelly easily visible from beneath his yellowish garish robes. Tom inwardly sneered in disgust.

''Yes, yes….'' Amando Dippet began, coughing lightly. ''For the new students welcome to Hogwarts. To the old students, I hope you will have another fruitful year. I will not dally any longer, since I see a many students hiding their yawns by now.

Prefects, take the new students to their dorms!''

Tom suppressed a dark chuckle as he followed the two prefects of his house; Orion, Alyria and Darian unconsciously walking close to him.

This was only the beginning.

* * *

Orion Black half tuned out the speech the fifth year prefects were giving the first years, his father having already prepared him suitably for the Slytherin house. Instead his attention – like during the last few minutes – was inexplicably yet again drawn to the form of Tom Riddle standing next to him.

The one he had chosen to follow.

Tom's magic was reigned in tightly for now, and Orion was disappointed by the loss of that _tantalizing_ , that dark magic which had suppressed him so thoroughly that he had swallowed his pride and bowed his head.

He knew that Darian and Alyria had gotten a similar feeling of superiority from Riddle even without feeling that magic. Orion forcefully suppressed another shiver the mere thought of that magic evoked in him.

The Carrow twins were famous in their circle of dark pureblood children for being exceptionally ruthless. There was a rumour that they had once driven their temporary nanny to commit suicide when their parents were gone for a week to attend a ball at the French Ministry, and she had tried to get them to do something they didn't want to.

Yet, they clearly had begun to defer to Tom in the short time they had known him. While part of Orion was resentful at having to share Tom with anyone, when he was the one who met Tom first – who first gained Tom's approval – a larger part of him knew how useful it would be for Tom to have more backing in the Slytherin House.

Though as he noticed Tom's eyes flickering towards the seating arrangement housing the so called 'top' of the hierarchy, a flicker of disdainful and cruel amusement dancing though those stormy eyes – Orion couldn't suppress the small feeling of anticipation welling up inside his heart.

It looked like he wouldn't regret choosing Riddle's side, no matter what path may lay ahead.

Because while Black's normally bowed to no one, once they did – they would stick with their decision.

To do anything else would be proof of ill-breeding and a weak heart after all.

And Orion Black was anything but weak.

* * *

Tom Riddle closed the thick wooden door behind him, his eyes flickering towards the trunk already standing at the feet of his bed.

He was glad that the Slytherin students each had their own room, door marked by a silver plate. It was a small room with mostly unadorned stone walls, a large bed with green bedding, a desk with a matching chair, and a wooden wardrobe.

Frowning in thought, Tom flicked his wrist, his wand settled against his palm in but a moment, a comfortable weight.

Murmuring quietly, Tom moved his wand in a recurring infinity motion, his magic flowing through his foci easily, before directing it towards his door.

While Tom had far from sufficient spell knowledge to ward his door to what he considered to be an appropriate degree, what he read in a book explaining the basics of warding from Salazar Slytherin's library should be sufficient until he knew more about the subject.

Content for the moment, Tom waved his wand, his clothes floating inside the opened wardrobe while his normal Hogwarts books placed themselves neatly on his desk. For him controlling several objects was not particularly harder than breathing.

The Slytherin's though. The Slytherin's had surprised him greatly today. While there had been some looks shot his way, the extra edge of hatred was missing, and Tom could only rationalize this by Harry Potter's time being after Voldemort's initial reign.

The current Dark Lord – Grindelwald - from what he gathered was more interested in killing Muggles than Muggleborn witches and wizards.

It suited him just fine. Tom had seen the seating arrangements close to the fireplace in the common room, knew this was where the 'top' sat, and knew that this was where he would soon enough sit.

After all, the sixth and seventh years who sat there – while above average in magical power – couldn't be compared to him.

Plans flitting though his head, Tom allowed himself to fall into his comfortable bed, his young body utterly exhausted from the long day.

A small smile on his face, he fell asleep only moments after.

* * *

 **A/N OMG! Yes this is no illusion. It's actually a new chapter….. It was a bit shorter, but it was a good point to cut it off, so I did. I also wanted to finally be able to give you guys something more to read. My muse for this story is officially back!**

 **Tom is getting to know his potential followers, and finally arrives at Hogwarts… MUhahahah!**

 **Thank your for favoriting, following and reviewing this story!**

 **C'ya soon,**

 **AriesOrion**


	6. Chapter 6 - Year one: The Beginning

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honor belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

* * *

 **General Warnings:** Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

* * *

 **Summary:** Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equalled survival, and weakness equalled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _The Slytherin's though. The Slytherin's had surprised him greatly today. While there had been some looks shot his way, the extra edge of hatred was missing, and Tom could only rationalize this by Harry Potter's time being after Voldemort's initial reign._

 _The current Dark Lord – Grindelwald - from what he gathered was more interested in killing Muggles than Muggleborn witches and wizards._

 _It suited him just fine. Tom had seen the seating arrangements close to the fireplace in the common room, knew this was where the 'top' sat, and knew that this was where he would soon enough sit._

 _After all, the sixth and seventh years who sat there – while above average in magical power – couldn't be compared to him._

 _Plans flitting though his head, Tom allowed himself to fall into his comfortable bed, his young body utterly exhausted from the long day._

 _A small smile on his face, he fell asleep only moments after._

* * *

Chapter 6 – Year one: The beginning

* * *

The first few weeks passed rather slowly.

They were also astonishingly peaceful. Tom – instead of implementing any heaven-defying schemes – merely sat back and _watched_ as the first years got used to life at Hogwarts, and the older students fell back into their usual rhythm.

He observed the Houses, the teachers, the students, the _ghosts_ – he watched and planned and sorted information constantly.

But most of all, he watched his new House like an eagle, sorting through names and faces, attitudes, until he knew which ones would create trouble because of his blood, who would judge based on merit to the House and which students would simply ignore him.

His new 'friends' were unexpectedly very helpful in this little endeavour as they knew most of the purebloods at least from hear-say if not personally. His evident 'friendship' with the Black heir also seemed to afford him a certain borrowed status for now.

It was rather unexpected that the hatred towards those with less than pure blood was actually mostly absent. It was more of an indifferent disdain for those less influential, less known.

It seemed like Voldemort's ridiculous decision played a large part in the biting hatred between the Houses, had fanned the mostly luke-warm flames, until they spiralled into a tornado of destructive flames ready to tear a whole society apart.

By the end of the first month, Tom Riddle had already established a solid reputation. No matter if it was a teacher, a ghost or a student, everyone who paid attention to the first years knew that Tom Riddle was a magically gifted Slytherin first year student with a polite and modest attitude.

He was always the first to finish a spell or a potion, turned in perfect assignments with a discernment visible to all – and often helped his fellow students once he was finished.

Tom Riddle was perfect, and everyone began to know it.

{1}

The Hogwarts Library was a large hall with tall arch like windows, and endless rows of books. It was one of Tom's favourite rooms if only for the knowledge contained in this room. Dozens of wooden tables were placed throughout the hall, one of them occupied by several eleven-year old students, with silver green ties.

Tom watched as Eileen Prince quietly explained the reaction of several ingredients to a quietly listening Darian Carrow, and allowed himself a small smile. They had formed a study group only a week after their arrival at Hogwarts, acknowledging that they all had different classes they excelled in – and a subtle hint of Tom to Orion had taken care of the rest.

It didn't take long for the Slytherin first years to realize Tom's gift with magic, observe how he wielded it with such laudable ease – and after a few more sessions in which Tom took the lead, and answered every question with apparent ease, the scientism eased considerably. Nott and Lestrange both attended every study lesson as well, the first quiet where the other was far more bold – yet both more than content to allow Tom to take the lead.

Eileen Prince seemed far more interested in potions than anything else, but there was a quiet intelligence in her that he could appreciate.

The only problem was Avery. The idiotic child had become something of a loner, as separated from the rest as he was – and by the resentful glances thrown at Tom, he seemed to blame him somewhat fierce for his more or less forced isolation.

It wasn't so much a problem, as an annoyance. The disparaging comments, and insulting looks were practically begging him to do something drastic after all.

He wasn't so nice as to ignore such behaviour, even if the other was an eleven-year old jealous boy, repeating blindly what his parents had taught him.

Tom was thrown out of his contemplation when Orion next to him sighed in apparent frustration.

''What's wrong, Orion? Need some help?'' He questioned, feeling somewhat more interest in the Black heir than anyone else yet.

Orion grimaced, before slumping in defeat. ''I was trying to do some transfiguration wordlessly… It seems so easy when you do it.''

Tom smiled amusedly at the disgruntled, but admiring tone at the end. ''Your visualization is probably not clear enough. Close your eyes, Orion.''

The slightly younger boy did so without further prompting, and Tom continued in a low soothing tone, his magic as always helping him achieve what he desired.

''Now, image the small red button before you on the table. The way it reflects the sunlight from the surface, the small black holes in the middle… Imagine it, and keep in in your mind. Then picture the colour changing, observe as the red turns into black, and the button seems to become larger, flatter – as if the button simply morphed into a different one. Now hold that image in your mind, and speak the incantation clearly in your mind.

Now flick your wand over the button.''

It was rather satisfying to see the small red button morph into a more elegant looking black one, and Tom smiled at Orion in obvious approval.

Orion lit up, a bright smile on his face – pride literally glowing from his silvery eyes, and Tom's normally cold eyes warmed slightly.

He was truly becoming increasingly fond of Orion.

It was only now that Tom took notice of the awed faces staring back at their side of the table, the sheer _want_ in their eyes – and it made something inside of him perk up at their desire to learn more magic.

To Tom magic was an obsession since he had first felt that power curse through his body. The first time he had felt that sheer force bending to his desires – and he somehow knew that this was what he was meant to be. Not the son of some politician, and a mother who was far more interested in screwing her various lovers in front of her own son – but able to wield magic, and do something with that power.

The following years had allowed him to accept that reality. Accept that he was Tom Riddle, and realize the possibility. Yet, he was thankful to Mother Magic for allowing him this opportunity, for letting him reach his full potential, and as twisted as he was, he wanted to thank her. Make the Wizarding World aware that it was not something one could take for granted, but a gift that should be carefully nurtured.

''I could teach all of you. But we will have to search for some undisturbed location.'' Tom stated simply, smile widening at the unanimous decision - and deep inside of him his magic purred in satisfaction.

''An unused classroom?'' Cassius Lestrange offered immediately, the blond pureblood far more liberal with his words than most Slytherin's.

''We would need wards.'' Theodred Nott added, ''Or at least some other security measure.''

''Some nasty ones?'' Darian Carrow asked, a somewhat vindictive smirk on his face. He was truly the most twisted apart from Tom. His twin sister merely rolled her eyes, not contributing verbally, but then again Tom hadn't expected her to. Alyria Carrow would have to prompted first.

''A perimeter ward?'' Eileen Prince mused out loud, and Orion Black nodded in agreement. ''Some charms to redirect attention perhaps?''

''We will first have to find a large enough abandoned room in a long forgotten corridor. The perimeter ward will then alarm us when someone approaches that part of the castle – it will be large enough of an area to not be retraceable to our room. As for the rest of the security measures, you can leave that to me.'' Tom decided calmly, already having a few ideas of his own.

No one protested, but then again Tom hadn't expected them to. They had all become familiar with following his lead in the last month, and their desire to learn from him would do the rest.

''Then, let us continue, shall we? Dinner will be in an hour.''

Observing as they tried to focus on their now seemingly mundane homework, a fervent light in their eyes – Tom smiled.

It was not a very nice one.

{2}

Soon enough a new routine established itself in their little group. They still spent some time in the library, mostly to complete their homework, before they would vacate to their new 'hideout', an old classroom which Theodred had found a scarce week after their discussion. The heir to the House of Nott had apparently taken to wandering around the castle after dinner for the whole week, and most of his weekend.

The warm smile which he had bestowed upon the boy had made the quiet first-year lit up in apparent pride.

It took another weekend for them to clear out the room, and make it somewhat habitable – and Tom had implemented most of his ideas on the Sunday. He found the spells in one of the books from Salazar Slytherin's vault which he had taken with him to Hogwarts.

A parseltongue spell which was a mixture of transfiguration, a notice-me-not charm – and some other fairly other tricky charm work which had actually tired him out for the rest of the day. Thankfully now they had a password protected entrance which would only reveal itself once the right password was drawn with the wand on a certain stone.

Unfortunately, the annoyance called Alexander Avery still kept up his disparaging comments, and by now even solid and controlled Orion looked like he would soon lose his temper. It didn't help that the respect gained from those Slytherin's had already turned partly to loyalty. Insulting the one who had opened their eye to a world of magic beyond their knowledge had not endeared the Avery scion to any of them.

If at the beginning of the term, it still had been a somewhat loose isolation – Avery had a month later become a pariah in his year group. Tom Riddle was after all, a polite Slytherin student that had often helped first year students from other Houses during the classes, and always had a ready smile and kind word for anyone.

Avery openly disparaging his blood status clearly did him no favours with the other Houses, and the older Slytherin's were too disgusted with his methods, even if they did privately agree.

Tom Riddle brought in enough House Points to disregard his blood status, and the favour of Horace Slughorn, their potions teacher as well as Head of House curtailed the rest of the complaints.

The teacher had quickly caught on to his talent and unexpected status in his own year group, and had not needed more than two weeks to compliment him on every turn, stating constantly how he had never had such a gifted student before.

The rest of the classes weren't much different, all teachers liked a humble and eager students gifted in their expertise – and his attitude quickly won him their respect.

Albus Dumbledore was no exception, the auburn haired transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmaster had continued to treat Tom quite warmly, even after his sorting into Slytherin. His performance in Diagon Alley appeared to have worked marvellously, and Tom always took note to play his role perfectly during his transfiguration lessons.

It was already the beginning of November, the castle growing cold with the dropping temperature, the wind increasingly harsher and the rain more frequent.

Tom admitted, as he entered the transfiguration classroom with the rest of his friends, that he actually enjoyed those lessons. Transfiguration was an interesting class, and Dumbledore had a talent for teaching.

Sitting down on his usual seat, Orion in his customary place next to him – Tom allowed his thoughts to wander slightly as the class continued the topic one he had already taught to his friends.

So it did not surprise him when soon enough the only blank box before the Slytherin side was before Avery, the first-year looking increasingly frustrated at his lack of success at transforming the wooden box into another kind.

Tom suppressed the malicious smile wanting to appear on his face; instead he took care to appear wide-eyed and perfectly innocent.

He saw his friends perk up from the corner of his eye at the small change in his expression, enough to indicate that something had changed.

''Avery.'' Tom called quietly, making sure that Dumbledore three rows further could hear. ''Do you want me to help you? I could explain it to you again.''

Alexander Avery – Hogwarts pariah, and isolated eleven-year old was finally pushed to the limit of his patience.

''Shut your fucking mouth, you dirty Mudblood!'' Avery snarled viciously in Tom's direction, taking no heed of the sudden silence in the room. ''Why don't you just crawl back into the filth where you grew up! We don't need…''

''Mr. Avery.'' Dumbledore's voice resounded through the classroom, uncharacteristically angry, blue eyes narrowed and mouth set in a grim line.

Tom allowed his fake distress to show for a few second, long enough to be noticed before a small sad smile replaced it. ''Mr. Dumbledore…''

''No need to say anything, my boy. I should have put a stop to this frankly galling antagonism of Mr. Avery far earlier. Fifty points from Slytherin!''

''What?'' Avery shrieked, sounding horrified. Tom didn't blame him. To lose points in such a manner would get him ostracized completely from his own House.

''You will also have detention with Professor Slughorn for the next two months. Such behaviour I have never witnesses before in all my years as a professor. Now sit down!''

It didn't surprise Tom that the continuation of the class was impossible, and soon enough the Ravenclaw students with which they shared Transfiguration left the classroom, chattering between them – and Tom knew this incident would be all over the school by dinner at the latest.

Putting people into their proper place was rather amusing after all.

Like Tom expected, the fact that Alexander Avery had blown up at Tom Riddle, and insulted the polite boy in such a vicious fashion for offering his help had spread around the school in record time. Perhaps it was the large point loss that made it so interesting for all involved, but by dinner time Avery had been completely subdued in his actions, not daring to look at anyone.

The boy was not a complete imbecile, so he probably knew that if he wasn't completely shut off from the rest of Hogwarts before, he was so now. No one wanted to be associated with him, and the fact wouldn't likely change in during the rest of the year.

Two weeks after the whole debacle, as Tom remembered the dejected and hopeless looking form of Alexander Avery – a malicious thought took hold of him.

Hadn't he wanted to punish the boy for daring to insult him in such a manner?

The rest of his friends noticed his distraction, and Orion as the one closest to him, tilted his head in a silent question.

''I have decided that we'll be getting a pet soon.'' Tom smiled, the kind expression at odds with the truly malicious gleam in his eyes, his magic emanating from his body – dark and malicious, yet addicting – and Orion Black allowed himself a smile equally as dark.

This was why he followed Tom. The boy his age had a mind far superior to anything he had ever encountered; with a talent for magic unsurpassed and magic so addicting it was maddening.

Letting his eyes rove over the other Slytherin first-years sitting in the comfortable seats they had learned to transfigure under Tom's instructions – and reading the same message in their eyes, the Black Heir couldn't wait for the following years.

{3}

Getting an audience with Slughorn was surprisingly easy if your name was Tom Riddle. The Hogwarts professor seemingly always had time for his 'favourites', and at the moment Tom was at the very top of that list.

Slughorn's office was decorated borderline obscenely, awards and pictures covering the walls, showing every visitor with how many people the Hogwarts professor was acquainted.

Tom let his expression morph into a charming smile, and greeted the pot-bellied professor with fake pleasantries.

''Now then, Tom. How can I help you?'' Slughorn smiled at him, arms outstretched as if he wanted to reach out to Tom.

''Professor Slughorn. I know that you are a busy person…''

Slughorn waved him off with a dismissive gesture. ''No, no, my boy. Fear not, I always have time for my students.''

Tom visibly hesitated. ''It's about Mr. Avery, Professor.''

''Yes, that dreadful business. He has not insulted you further, has he?'' Slughorn looked distressed, a frown on his face, as if imagining such an action.

''Not at all, Professor. I'm aware that Mr. Avery usually has detention around this time, and I fear that this is all partly my fault.'' Tom looked down on his hands, an air of misery around him. ''After all, none of my friends like how he treats me – and that's why he was always alone. I believe he just wanted some attention, Professor.''

Slughorn appeared conflicted, and Tom decided to push a little more. ''Truly, Professor. It was just a childish tantrum, and having Mr. Avery suffer such punishment, such isolation will not help him. Why don't I take him with me, and introduce him to my friends? I'm sure this will settle soon enough.''

The potions professor looked rather moved, his right hand patting Tom on his shoulder.

''You're such a bright and kind lad, Tom. Don't let anyone take advantage of you, alright? I'll let you take over Avery's detention for this week, and we'll see how this plays out… Really such a bright child.

30 points to Slytherin.''

Tom thanked Slughorn profusely, more than relieved when a knock sounded through the room, and the door opened.

Alexander Avery appeared with the same subdued air, stepping into the office hesitantly. It was a mark to how depressed the child was that he didn't even visibly react to Tom's presence in the room.

The child had spent the last two weeks being ostracized and ignored by hundreds of people, being sneered at by the rest of his House – and being berated by his parents at the very least. Tom figured it was time to introduce himself to his new 'pet'.

''Ah, Mr. Avery.'' Sluhorn sounded distinctly colder now, a faint disdain curling the lips downwards, and the first-year Slytherin shrank back sharply, before murmuring a faint greeting back.

''Tom here has just spoken to me on your behalf. He has offered to introduce you to his friends, so your detention from today is postponed, and perhaps even cancelled if Tom reports your behaviour as positive enough.'' Horace Slughorn informed Avery briskly, before addressing the quietly observing with far more warmth.

''Then, Tom. He is in your hands.''

Tom smiled warmly at the disbelieving Avery – and he could see the hope, the longing, the fear of rejection there.

He was really nothing more than a child spouting whatever his parents had told him, lonely and desperate for some connection. Even if it was with the 'mudblood' he had insulted before.

''There is no need for us to remain enemies, is there? I'm sure my friends would welcome you with open arms. Come along.'' His voice was soothing, as he approached the visibly torn boy – and he directed a hint of his magic towards him.

Avery relaxed involuntarily, a thankful smile on his face. ''I'm sorry, Tom.''

Tom waved him off graciously, ''No need, Alexander. Now let's go.''

As Avery followed him obediently, Tom was busy thinking about how he should train his new dog. After all, the boy was rather pathetically grateful to him for rescuing him from the scorn of the whole school, after all.

Decisions, decisions…

As expected, his friends weren't pleased about his 'guest', but willingly went along with his plan. And every time any of his friends was short with the boy, Tom protected Avery. Praised the boy when he did something corrected, every praise accompanied by a hint of his magic, enough to make the boy feel good.

The fact that Tom Riddle had forgiven Avery so graciously was the talk of the school for the next week, Avery practically hiding behind Tom – and Tom continued to give the boy small tasks – to grab his books, hold something – and Tom continued to praise him when he did anything well.

His friends soon enough cottoned on to what he was doing, and did the same – only less often, letting him train their new dog.

And Tom saw the gratitude marred by conflict – because Tom was a mudblood – turn into elation every time Tom praised him, acknowledged him, made him feel that addicting magic.

By the end of November, Tom had a fully conditioned pet – and between learning new magic and teaching his friends, he felt vaguely accomplished.

Until, everything changed on a cold December evening.

* * *

 **A/N…. That took a while, but I had a flash of inspiration coupled with a small vacation… voila. The next chapter is already on the way – and I hope between college applications and volunteer work – I'll be able to finish it soon.**

 **Hope you liked it and thank you for your interest!**

 **C'ya**

 **AriesOrion**


	7. Chapter 7 - Submission

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honor belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

* * *

 **General Warnings:** Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

* * *

 **Summary:** Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equalled survival, and weakness equalled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _The fact that Tom Riddle had forgiven Avery so graciously was the talk of the school for the next week, Avery practically hiding behind Tom – and Tom continued to give the boy small tasks – to grab his books, hold something – and Tom continued to praise him when he did anything well._

 _His friends soon enough cottoned on to what he was doing, and did the same – only less often, letting him train their new dog._

 _And Tom saw the gratitude marred by conflict – because Tom was a mudblood – turn into elation every time Tom praised him, acknowledged him, made him feel that addicting magic._

 _By the end of November, Tom had a fully conditioned pet – and between learning new magic and teaching his friends, he felt vaguely accomplished._

 _Until, everything changed on a cold December evening._

* * *

Chapter 7 – Submission

* * *

Slytherin – the House of the ambitious and cunning. Especially for purebloods it was the House they aspired to be placed in. Naturally, the Sorting Hat could be influenced if the desire was strong enough, so not every Slytherin student was actually ambitious and cunning enough for the Hogwarts House.

Their natures not patient, subtle enough to ensure their individual success. Because while a family backing was important, and could influence other students – an individual's ability was even more significant.

The Slytherin hierarchy was a complex system designed over centuries, and had not truly changed during that time. The higher years were above the lower ones, the smarter the higher the rank. Naturally, not all Slytherin's were ruthless enough to take advantage of such a practice, and those would never truly rise in the ranks.

The 'elite' of the House, ruled the House with an iron fist – the collection of students having enough political, financial and magical power to suppress the rest. But even those would only be able to reap those benefits for one or two years before the next 'elite' took their place.

The House of Slytherin was what students would have to deal with after graduation, a practice environment in which the strongest, most cunning would reap the most benefits, the best alliances.

Yet, there were always a few exceptions. No one wanted to cross the Black Family, one of the oldest families, full of dark wizards and witches of dubious sanity, and enough Dark Arts knowledge to fill several libraries.

Tom Riddle was not a pureblood, yes. But he was protected by the Black Heir, a fact which forced the students to take a step back and observe.

The resulting intelligence was conflicting. Tom Riddle was a polite and charming prodigy with a surprising popularity in all Houses, and several dark purebloods as his 'friends'.

It didn't make any _sense_.

No mask could be so thorough, no half-blood could be so Slytherin. He was obviously intelligent, but naïve enough to be used by his fellow snakes.

That's what Cygnus Black believed.

The cousin of Orion Black had long convinced himself that his cousin would stop toying around with that half-blood soon enough. When that still didn't happen in the beginning of December, Cygnus lost the little patience he still had.

So when he spotted Orion together with his cousin, the male Carrow twin, and Theodred Nott entering the common room from the first year corridor, he frowned in faint annoyance and strolled towards the little group.

''Cousin.'' He greeted Orion rather impatiently. ''It's the beginning of December, why don't you stop playing around already?'' He smirked in Tom Riddle's direction mockingly before ignoring the boy completely.

Cygnus Black – fifth-year Slytherin, and member of the ruling elite – barely had enough time to notice the abrupt change in his cousin's expression, before a chill enveloped him.

He wouldn't remember much until he woke up in the hospital in the middle of the night, hours later, covered in sweat and shuddering in fear.

{1}

Tom Riddle was patient. Perhaps not always, but this new life and the period spent completely dependent on others – had instilled in him a deep-seated ability to wait until the best chance to strike appeared.

He had spent months in Hogwarts already, building his reputation, charming students and teachers alike – and yet his own House was the least receptive of him.

Blood-status.

As if blood had anything to do with ability. Still, Tom had learned in his first confrontation with Orion Black that purebloods respected power first and foremost, and his other friends had not even mentioned his own blood-status as soon as they had firsthand seen his ability.

But he was also aware of the category of students that valued their pureblood status so greatly, that even his prodigious ability shown so far was not even to stop them from looking down on him.

Fools, the lot of them.

Cygnus Black was one such example. So Tom was less than surprised when the fifth-year strolled towards them arrogantly, a superior expression on his face that only smoothed out slightly when he addressed the future Head of his House.

The insinuation was rather insulting, and Tom felt his magic blubber and boil inside of him, his anger sudden and fierce.

In that moments Tom sensed the opportunity in this confrontation – the _chance_. Because he had finished observing already, and avoiding this confrontation would make him appear _weak_.

Ignoring the way Orion's face become increasingly stony, Tom let his mask vanish for the first time in years – completely and wholly – his face stone-cold and menacing. His eyes nearly glowing and lips twisted in a mocking smile.

Cygnus Black unconsciously took a step back, but it didn't satisfy Tom in the least.

His magic filled the space around him – heavy and almost tangible – and Tom imbued his will into this force of nature, bent it to his whims, and willed it to surround the wide-eyed pureblood in front of him.

His eyes were glazed over, expression dazed as he shivered all over – and Tom wasn't even surprised anymore. He had experimented some on his pet, Avery more than happy to serve his needs.

Tom's raw magic was just too _powerful._

''Kneel.''

His command – for it could not be anything but – was followed haltingly, as if the small conscious part of Cygnus Black couldn't decide whether to obey or not. It didn't matter to Tom; he knew his magic would make sure the boy followed his will.

''This…'' He whispered sweetly, ''…is the difference between our eye-levels, would you not agree?''

Some long-forgotten and buried instinct inside of Cygnus Black told him to nod. So he did. Even years later he would swear that it had saved his life.

''Now…'' Tom continued in that same oddly gentle tone. ''You will stand up, and lead me to your seats. I think they shall be mine from now on.''

Cygnus Black stumbled to him feet, not even thinking of disobeying. The small coherent part of him shuddering in fear at the malicious look in that boy's eyes.

Tom followed the drugged fifth-year to the part of the common room where at the beginning of the year, he had observed the 'rulers' of this House. Two other fifth-years and three sixth-ears were staring at the approaching Cygnus with something akin to incomprehension – their eyes sliding over to the smiling Tom.

Something inside of them was warning them. Not to fight, to run far _far_ away. So far that this child would not be able to find them.

They were Slytherin's. Self-preservation was in their very nature. But so was ambition. And being at the top of Slytherin granted them power. Power that sixth-year Slytherin Jonathan Wilkes had no intention of giving up to some _first-year Half-blood_.

''Who do you think you are to spout such nonesen…''

His angry tirade was cut off as soon as he felt something oppressive surrounding him, pressing down on him with indomitable will. The Slytherin had never felt so afraid before, every single cell in his body screaming inside of him, that this was not someone he could cross.

The child approaching him was no human. Wilkes was convinced of that fact. Only something inhuman could inspire such profound fear in him.

Tom let his eyes wander around the corner of the common room, saw the advantageous position those seats were in, the fireplace conveniently close by and nodded in satisfaction.

Perfect.

The other older students hastily scrambled out of their seats, ignoring dignity for survival – and Tom seated himself in the chair with the tallest upholstery, smile widening as he gave an encouraging nod to Orion, Darian, and Theodred who had followed him the whole time.

''Theodred, please do collect the rest of us.'' Tom instructed Nott, the boy instantly complying, eyes wide with awe.

Tom turned towards the shaking and pale sixth-year still rooted to his spot. ''Jonathan Wilkes, was it?''

Wilkes nodded.

''You and yours, make sure that the whole House is assembled as soon as possible. I do not like being kept waiting.''

This sixth years didn't even think about disobeying. A sharp glare was being shot towards the fifth, and sixth-years previously sitting with him, before all four left the common room, one walking towards the corridors where the student's rooms were.

That handled sufficiently, Tom turned his attention back to the unfortunate student that had started the whole thing. Cygnus Black's eyes were still glazed over, his whole body shivering and sweating form his feeble resistance, and Tom narrowed his eyes at the boy who thought he could look down on him.

Cygnus was promptly pushed to his knees next to Tom's comfortable arm chair – and a small hand stretched out to pat the fifth-year's head in an absent-minded gesture.

''What a shame that I already have a dog.'' He mused out loud, Orion Black smirking on the seat beside him, Darian snickering loudly and Tom chuckled.

It seemed like his plans would advance sooner than he thought.

{2}

It didn't take long for the rest of his friends to arrive, Theodred already knowing where the rest of the group would be around this time. Tom could see their awe and excitement as he saw them seated comfortably in that very corner, their pride at being a part of this.

Even Alyria managed a small smile – and Cassius didn't seem like he would stop smirking soon. Eileen was as composed as ever. Avery took a seat at Tom's feet without prompting, the pureblood more than proud to be allowed this position.

He had really broken that boy. Tom had studied psychology for years, and convincing a malleable pathetically grateful lonely child that he should show him the proper respect had been too easy.

More and more students trickled in as the minutes passed, confused expressions on their faces, turning into incomprehension as they saw the first-years in that corner with Cygnus Black kneeling next to Tom like some sort of dog.

Before they were all pulled aside by Slytherin's who had been in the common room during the confrontation. An uneasy silence permeated the whole room – and Tom completely ignored them, more focused on playing with Cygnus Black – increasing and decreasing the magic around him, changing it's tune from oppressive to soothing, from pleasant to menacing. The pureblood was by now so pale it looked like he would collapse soon enough, the strain on his mind and magic enormous.

It was nearly half an hour later that Jonathan gave Tom the signal that the whole House was assembled, and Tom gave him an approving nod. He pretended not to see the sixth year relax at that.

''For those of you who don't know me, my name is Tom Riddle – a half-blood.'' Tom addressed the students in the common room, the last part provoking furious whispers before they were shushed by the others.

''As you can all see, I have claimed these seats.'' He continued, smile widening at the disdainful expression of those not having been in the common room before. His magic instantly flowed out of his body, filling the whole common room with its unique feel, a mixture of disdainful mocking and maliciousness, darkness so pure and warm that every student shuddered when the magic caressed them gently, harshly.

''Any objections?''

Tom withdrew the malicious component of his magic, and saw all Slytherin's relax. The lack of protest was music to his ears – and his expression warmed considerably.

''Good.'' He praised warmly, ''Otherwise I would have to get creative.'' His magic concentrated back on Cygnus, the pureblood swaying unsteadily by now, and he saw the other students take note of his vacant expression.

''I only have one rule.'' He announced, ''Never go against me, or you will pay the price. I don't care who your parents are, how influential or wealthy, or how many generation your blood is already pure.

I care for ability. For magic – for those of you who can look past their previous preconceptions – and adapt. I care for cunning, and ambition – for those who use their means to see past the wish to stay as wealthy as your forefathers.

This is a school for learning magic. Not for blood.

It is not blood that separates purebloods from muggleborns. It is their lack of knowledge regarding customs, their attitude that you do not like.

Blood – after all – makes no difference, only magic does. Do you understand?''

Seeing the understanding in their eyes, the fear and intrigue – Tom chuckled.

He wondered if the Slytherin's knew that they were actually the easiest to manipulate. After all, no other House would have allowed him to practically rule that House so very easily.

Well, their loss was his gain.

Hearing the pained moan from beside him, Tom finally withdrew his magic, and Cygnus Black promptly lost consciousness – body slumping onto the Slytherin green carpet.

''Wilkes, take care of him.''

The sixth year hurried to follow his instructions, and Tom wondered how fearful they were of his magic to disregard anything else so quickly.

Seeing all other students still waiting anxiously, Tom smiled. ''You may all leave.''

Tom laughed as they all practically fled the common room.

He really was having such fun, indeed.

{3}

Until, Yule break nothing much changed. Tom continued to teach his friends new spells, methods, new way of thinking.

That magic was belief, and one would only fail if they expected to.

He also continued with Avery's conditioning. Tom didn't want to let out his malicious streak on his new friends who he was growing increasingly fond of. But he had to let his frustration – his annoyance at having to hide behind a mask for years now – out on someone. Instead, he reinforced certain behaviors in Avery, and forbade others.

When in their private room, or in the common room – Avery would sit at Tom's feet; the boy looking so happy when Tom would stroke his hair, or pay him any attention. Perhaps a large part of the boy's compliance could be attributed to magic. If Avery wanted to feel his magic – his drug – he would have to follow Tom's orders and do so well.

And Tom knew how dangerous addiction could be. It had truly surprised him when Orion had confided in him how Tom's magic made him feel. He had maybe even underestimated his own magic.

Darian had asked Tom permission to use Avery to test some spells as well, and the twisted smile on his face when he returned the boy – pale, shaking and full of fear – made Tom strangely proud. Of course he had praised Avery warmly when he returned to his feet.

Avery was Tom's first 'pet project' after all. Watching his friends leave for their break, Tom wondered if he should search for the room Salazar had described in his journal, before conceding that visiting the Chamber of Secrets, and the Room of Requirement first was perhaps more important.

Tom still had Salazar Slytherin's books from his vault - and those were enough to last him at least two more years before he needed more material. And even though he was curious about the room where the King resided; he had more immediate use for the Room of Requirement where the lost things of students eventually ended up in. The Chamber of Secrets would still be in the same condition next year, or the one after that.

He didn't have enough time for another project since Avery was staying at Hogwarts during the Yule break, apparently not wanting to anger his father by appearing at home. How he insulted a fellow Slytherin student in the open like that, and lost the House so many points was seemingly known to Avery Sr.

Letting himself relax in his comfortable bed, Tom decided that tomorrow he would first search for the Room of Requirement. He really had no need for the Chamber of Secrets at this point in time.

Closing his eyes, he let darkness claim him, a faint smile on his lips.

{4}

It took Tom some time to find the Room of Requirement, his memories fuzzy concerning the room. He had only remembered that it was somewhere on the seventh floor, where one had to walk past by the wall three times across some tapestry. Quite understandable, since regardless of his superior memory; he hadn't been paying too much attention to such a detail when he read the series. More interested in the side he could identify himself with.

Tom was quite annoyed by the time he managed to find the room, his feet sore and mood dark. Even if he had found some interesting things in the room. Thankfully, he had Avery to entertain him for such times.

He only smiled warmly at Avery when the boy looked so very happy when Tom fetched him from the empty common room, and followed Tom to their hide-out without further prompting.

One could practically see his tail wagging.

Activating some enchantments which he had added during the last weeks, one to make the room soundproof – Tom seated himself on a comfortable armchair, Avery sitting on the floor in front of him.

''Alexander.'' Tom called warmly, and Avery promptly looked up.

Avery smiled at him eagerly. ''Yes, Tom?''

''Look me into my eyes.'' Tom instructed, and immediately launched a Legilimency probe into Avery's mind.

Tom wasn't very practiced in Legilimency yet, and Avery was the first magical person he tried it on. But he was good enough at controlling his magic, and soon enough he could see flashes of what went through Avery's mind through the link between their magic.

Avery was a simple-minded individual. Simply spouting whatever he heard, not thinking of the consequences of such actions. Tom let his magic caress Avery and the associated memories immediately sprung to the forefront of Avery's mind.

Tom chuckled darkly as he saw how Avery perceived him. Kind-hearted, and so good to the useless Avery that not even his father had ever praised so warmly. An idea flashed in Tom's mind, and he pushed more of his magic into Avery's mind, repeating the memories where Avery had particularly looked up to Tom, where Tom had been so very kind to poor abandoned Avery.

And then he marked those memories, reinforced those impressions. His magic still so very warm and welcoming, the drug that Avery had long since become addicted to.

Cutting their connection, Tom let Avery compose himself, his eyes wide and glazed, shivering all over his body.

''Do you wish to help me, Alexander?'' Tom questioned the drugged boy, and it didn't surprise him when Avery nodded immediately.

''Good. I want to practice some of my spells. Is that alright?''

A flash of fear – probably from remembering whatever Darian had done to him – flashed through Avery's mind, before he agreed readily.

After all, Tom had saved him, cared for him and praised him. Avery would repay that kindness, no matter what.

Tom flicked his wand, a blue light flashing towards the sitting form of Avery – and the boy's mouth opened in a silent scream, body shaking uncontrollably – as electricity cursed through him violently, the spell a derivative of the cruciatus curse, only far less powerful.

Ending the spell, Tom let his magic caress the twitching child – before he smiled at him warmly. ''Well done, Alexander. Should I stop?''

''No… Tom. Ple- …Please continue.'' Avery croaked hoarsely. ''It helps you, right?''

''Yes, it does.'' Tom confirmed warmly, continuing to try out spell after spell, the screams music to his ears. Naturally, he never forgot to let his magic flood Avery's body afterwards, it wouldn't do for the boy to associate torture only with pain after all.

It was only nearly two hours later that Tom finally stopped his experiments, and poured a pain-reliever potion into Avery's mouth, the boy nearly unconscious if not for the small breaks Tom had periodically given him.

Seeing the eyes – glazed from both pain, and pleasure – Tom launched another small Legilimancy probe into Avery's mind, and whispered of a job well done, and how very pleased Tom was. How it wasn't so bad, because it had helped Tom. That Avery had constantly felt Tom's magic, and how very good that had felt.

Tom chuckled as the boy lost consciousness, wondering how long it would take for Avery to associate pain given by Tom with pleasure.

Yes, Avery did indeed make a very useful pet.

Tom hummed to himself, imagining how very exciting his Yule break would be if every day was like this.

He couldn't wait to share this experience with his friends, although he would probably have to wait a little longer for that.

Not all of them were sadistic and ruthless enough for such a session yet.

Perhaps next year?

Yes, Tom should probably save such thoughts for next year. This life of his was after all only just beginning.

* * *

A/N I'm on a roll! The next chapter will be out around Sundayish ;)

Tom has a frightening amount of raw magic... and the control developed over years... So no, he's not all powerful, but humans are afraid of what they don't know or understand and the Slytherin's don't understand Tom, nor how his magic is like that.

Hope you liked it!

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	8. Chapter 8 - Twisted Cruelty

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honor belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

* * *

 **General Warnings:** Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

* * *

 **Summary:** Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equalled survival, and weakness equalled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _Tom chuckled as the boy lost consciousness, wondering how long it would take for Avery to associate pain given by Tom with pleasure._

 _Yes, Avery did indeed make a very useful pet._

 _Tom hummed to himself, imagining how very exciting his Yule break would be if every day was like this._

 _He couldn't wait to share this experience with his friends, although he would probably have to wait a little longer for that._

 _Not all of them were sadistic and ruthless enough for such a session yet._

 _Perhaps next year?_

 _Yes, Tom should probably save such thoughts for next year. This life of his was after all only just beginning._

* * *

Chapter 8 – Twisted Cruelty

* * *

The walls were the same dark stone as every other corridor in the castle, and Darian allowed himself a cheery smile as he skipped along the abandoned corridors – some filled with ancient partly torn spider webs, while others seemed to be solely made up of layers of dust.

He often made it a challenge for himself; to discover as many paths as possible to their little private hide-out; searching for hidden rooms and passages in order to map out this whole wing.

Darian had always been a curious child. Curiosity and intelligence in spades, and his parents had cursed and reveled in such a nature in equal manner. Until his and Alyria's mother died of dragon-pox when they were nearly eight years old.

Darian still remembered the time before; their parents stern, but fair with certain distant fondness; still after the death of their mother – everything changed.

Their father started drinking, temper erupting constantly – and Darian had often taken his sister out during those times, to spare her the knowledge of what their father had turned into. Darian hadn't known how mad their father had become until he accidently saw his father rape a woman in the basement – body covered in wounds and moaning incoherently.

Instead of disgust, Darian felt curiosity.

How would it feel to be so in control of someone? To decide their fate in such a manner, watch as they fell apart in front of him?

He knew he was different – twisted, and broken.

He usually suppressed those urges, and the nanny that died on their property truthfully fell down the stairs, even if he had often pranked her quite nastily.

He hadn't thought anything would change when he went to Hogwarts. He hadn't expected Tom Riddle, with intelligence far superior to his own, and a twisted malicious streak in him that somehow seemed to belong there – it didn't make Tom broken, but special – and Darian admired that.

Darian Carrow was broken, but Tom didn't care. Liked him, and taught him magic. Darian didn't know whether he liked the malicious Tom better, or the one who taught them magic with a sparkle in his eyes – excited to share his knowledge, teach someone else what he saw in magic.

Or perhaps he liked the Tom the most that looked at him with amused understanding when he had asked to borrow Avery – Tom's dog – and for the first time truly experienced the power he had always been so very curious about.

He was twisted, and broken – but so was Tom and he accepted him.

So he found it entirely justified to be in such a good mood. Darian was about to skip around another corner – he'd found the corridor only two days ago – when he heard the faint sound of voices.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Darian murmured the spell to mask his footsteps – and crept towards the alcove where he knew those voices had to come from. It was a decent enough hiding spot, especially since no one came around here anyway.

It didn't take long for him to sneak close enough to listen in, the sounds of two boys talking in hushed whispers uncomfortably loud in the empty part of the school.

''…Daniel, it's our chance.''

''I don't know, Jerald. Didn't you see what he did?''

''Why should I care? He's just a firstie… and not even a pureblood.''

Darian stilled dangerously, fingering his wand in case they were really taking about who he thought they were.

''He's dangerous…''

''So? We could just use a switching spell on his drink during dinner. Once he's vomiting slugs all over himself, no Slytherin worth their salt will ever follow him again…''

''Jerald…''

''It's perfect, Daniel. More than…come on. Doesn't he piss you off too?''

''But…''

The one called Daniel couldn't finish his sentence – Darian already firing two spells in record time – and he would be so proud of his speed later, when those who wished to humiliate Tom couldn't do so anymore.

Hearing the slumping bodies, Darian allowed the pure rage to drain from him – looking at the two Slytherin third years dispassionately.

He should probably contact Tom.

{1}

Yule break passed by quickly, Tom more than eager to use the time to master more magic, learn more spells and control his power even better. The more he studied, the more disgusted he became. To him, the magic taught in Hogwarts and stored in the library seemed so limited when he had access to Salazar Slytherin's personal library.

Magic seemed to have been taken for granted, labeled and forbidden as if they thought such a thing acceptable.

Dark seemed to have become a synonym for evil, even though he freely admitted that he was both, he knew that there was a distinction. But Tom also knew that humans feared the unknown; they feared both death and the dark because they did not know what lay beyond it.

So they tried to forbid an integral part of magic. Tom and Orion had a number of conversations about the topic during the last few months, and Tom found it ridiculously easy to understand why dark purebloods had flocked to Voldemort.

He had promised them change. Freedom to practice dark magic, not knowing that Voldemort merely wanted to destroy lives and both worlds, be it magic or muggle.

Tom was twisted, but in a different way. His darkness came from disinterested, inferior parents that had tried to mold and shape him into an ideal, that he with his intellect found wanting.

His intelligence left without guidance, Tom had found the power he sought for in his knowledge of his own superiority, in knowing that he could manipulate and shape people as he pleased.

But he wasn't without principles. He would fight and die for what he promised, believed in. He would nurture those who followed him, who were worth his regard.

Following the return of his friends, a new routine slowly began to replace the old. They still practiced in the abandoned classroom, but the instances in which they spent in the common room became far more numerous.

As the 'ruler' of Slytherin, they needed to present an image, lest any upstart began to get ideas. Tom wasn't surprised when some unrest returned after the break, the students having gotten new confidence, but a few well-placed subtle threats and flashes of his magic put them back into their place.

December passed into early spring, the winter seemingly long when the snow kept piling up beneath the grey sky, and the wind howled through the towers loudly. Outer robes and gloves having long become a necessity – and Tom found himself admiring the scenery. The Founders had truly chosen a beautiful place to start a school, regardless of the chilly weather.

Orion was walking beside him, Cassius and Theodred following them, an animated conversation enfolding between them. Alyria and Eileen had found a new potion they wanted to try out, and Darian had borrowed Avery for whatever he needed him for.

Tom figured he would find out soon enough anyway.

Suddenly, something inside of his right pocket warmed up, releasing a small pulse of magic that Tom instantly sensed. Grabbing the object, Tom stared at the small coin with furrowed brows, the letters shifting into the initials D.A.C.

He had charmed those coins during the Yule break after realizing how annoying it would be to have to send someone to summon his friends every time in case he needed them.

''Darian is in our usual room, and apparently something important came up.'' Tom called his friends, all three fingering their own coins, before quickly returning back towards the castle.

Tom was interested in what was important enough to warrant Darian to use the coin after all.

Performing the usual wand movement, Tom entered their hideout not even twenty minutes later – and raised an eyebrow in inquiry at the scene in front of him.

Darian was usually always cheerful, even if his smiles were often cruel and mocking. He was rarely serious, but Tom had never seen him so very furious. The child seemed seconds away from throwing destructive hexes around.

''Tom.'' Darian Carrow called out in relief, expression easing considerably – a warm look in his eyes.

''What's going on?'' Orion stepped forward, eyes on the two figures lying unconscious on the cold stone ground. They looked like third-year Slytherin's.

'' _They_ …'' Darian ground his teeth in his fury. ''They dared to…''

''Calm down, Darian.'' Tom commanded quietly, but with a hint of steel in his voice.

Darian breathed in deeply, bowing his head slightly in apology. ''I'm sorry, Tom. I was on my way back to the common room to grab a book, when I overheard those two in one of the abandoned corridors. They… insulted you. Wanted to humiliate you. _Hurt_ you.''

Tom barely paid any attention to his other friends, their expressions filled with pure _rage_.

''…so I just stunned them from behind, and brought them here. What do you wish to do wish them?''

''How dare they…'' Cassius growled lowly, and even quiet Theodred fingered his wand with deliberate movements.

Orion's face was stony, but the Black heir had already drawn his wand. Avery stood to the side, clothes ruffled, eyes glazed, but even he had a murderous rage in his eyes. Probably not surprising, since Tom was sure that if he were to tell him to jump off the tower, he would.

''Is that so?'' Tom questioned, tone icy and displeased; before nodding towards Darian in acknowledgment. ''Good work, Darian.''

Darian Carrow lit up, the pureblood heir pleased to have been of use to Tom, who accepted him, and had given him an outlet to his desires.

Activating every last security measure, Tom stepped towards the two figures, already knowing that Darian had not called Alyria and Eileen, the two girls not ruthless enough for what the Carrow heir hoped would happen in this very room.

''Then let us teach them, why that was a tremendously bad idea.''

Tom sank into the armchair that Avery had levitated behind him, the boy seating himself at his feet, body still shuddering from whatever Darian had done to him.

Orion stepped forward first, casting a secure binding on their wrists – before awaiting Tom's instructions.

''Go ahead, Orion.'' Tom instructed warmly, ecstatic at the turn of events. Hadn't he wished to share this joy with his friends – twist and change them to his desires?

What they had heard, the threat against him had obviously enraged them enough to not care about the consequences. Tom inwardly wondered if magic made children mature more quickly.

It would explain the behavior exhibited by what should have been children. Or was it children's innate cruelty, their lack of understanding regarding consequences, their belief in what they considered their authority? It might as well have been his desensitization towards cruelty, his treatment of Avery becoming the norm when people that insulted Tom were concerned; he was sure that his friends believed that Avery deserved every bit of pain and humiliation coming his way.

Tom didn't particularly care either way, but he supposed it was just another step upwards from the upbringing they had enjoyed. How their parents had told them to respect their authority, to stomp upon those inferior only that it was now Tom that had taken the place as their leader.

Another wave of Orion's wand and the third-year students seemed to rouse themselves, groans announcing their waking.

Cassius and Theodred stepped forward, both fingering their wands with pensive expressions in their eyes, as if they were still debating what spells they should cast.

''Good morning.'' Darian called out, a bright grin on his face. ''And welcome Mr. Lockworth, and Mr. Selwyn.''

''Carrow? What's going on?'' The right figure – Lockworth – shrieked, trying to surge upwards, only to end up back on the floor, the bindings secure.

''That's the question, isn't it?'' Darian continued, wand twirling between his fingers.

Cassius Lestrange interrupted impatiently. ''Stop playing around, Darian. They insulted Tom. After he made it abundantly clear that he wouldn't tolerate it anymore.''

''Yes, they wanted to hurt him.'' Theodred Nott remarked, and at the reminder the last verges of playfulness disappeared from Darian's face.

Whispering an incantation, Darian directed his wand at the one who had spoken – Lockworth – and watched with glee as the body began to twitch, the boy starting to moan in pain as he felt like bugs were crawling under his skin, sinking into his flesh.

It didn't take long for the other boy to start whimpering fearfully as Orion's wand was trained at him – and Tom smiled, patting Avery's head as the other boy watched at the scene transfixed.

Tom was very happy that it was Saturday morning. It wouldn't be too strange for some students to be absent for a day.

His friends became less and less hesitant as they cast spell after spell, seemingly starting to notice the attraction to power, how excited their magic became. The two third-years were soon enough crying and screaming incoherently. It didn't surprise Tom that his friends's method mirrored their natures; Orion calm and composed, Darian vicious and curious, Cassius passionate where Theodred was detached.

''You wanted him to scream. Now scream for him. Scream for Tom.'' Darian laughed wildly, his spells becoming crueler by the minute.

Tom could see them all starting to enjoy themselves, delight in the complete power of such an action, of having someone be at your complete mercy.

Daniel Selwyn – the quieter of the two – was brought to consciousness by Orion for the third time, the third-year having lost consciousness several times already.

''Pl…Please…'' He begged, pale and wide-eyed. ''I'm…''

''You shouldn't have planned to harm him, then.'' Orion answered the plea almost conversationally. ''I was brought up by my father to take responsibility for my own actions. Now why don't you accept yours?''

A keening scream erupted from the Slytherin's mouth, and Tom observed with interest as Selwyn's body arched upwards – and was kept in the position for several seconds before slumping unconscious yet again.

''What kind of spell was that?'' Cassius whistled, obviously impressed.

Orion shrugged. ''From the Black Library, I looked up a couple during break. It causes the body to believe for a short period of time that the blood is highly corrosive acid.''

''Let me try. Please.'' Darian pleaded, including a highly disturbing pout. Orion looked towards Tom for permission, and Tom naturally acquiesced.

He felt faintly sorry for the two third-years who would now fall victim to his friends ambitious nature, and serve as experimental subjects. They wouldn't even think about resting until they could all use that spell perfectly.

Tom listened to Orion's explanation, and imagining his desire – to hear those boy's scream and plead – he waved his wand at them, a cruel smile on his face as the Lockworth boy let out a keening scream even louder than the last.

Leaning back into his chair, Tom let the hours pass by while his friends indulged in their new-found power, their twisted delight enough to entertain him, as they played him a macabre symphony of tortured screams and whimpered pleas.

It was only when Tom looked at the clock that he decided to end this little fun game. Vacating his seat, Tom approached the two moaning and twitching Slytherin's, pleased to note that his friends ended their game as soon as they saw him appear.

Tom smiled at the two boys warmly, letting his almost giddy magic freely saturate the air around him, letting all feel his own mood.

''Do you wish this to stop?''

Lockworth pleading croak was his only answer.

''But now we have a problem.'' Tom sighed, looking at the two wide-eyes boys sadly. ''I don't have time to have a long nice talk like we should have… Maybe I should just leave you with Darian for the night…''

Darian laughed gleefully. ''Please, Tom… I would make sure they will not say anything…''

''N…n-no.'' Lockworth cried pitifully, his voice hoarse and shaking.

Orion smoothly stepped forward. ''I have a suggestion, then.''

''Do tell.'' Tom encouraged, wanting to see if the Black Heir had come to the same conclusion.

Orion smirked maliciously. ''They could just swear not to.''

''What a marvelous idea.'' Tom exclaimed happily, ''Do you wish to swear an oath then?''

The two boys looked at each other, before shivering as they saw the predatory expressions on those children younger than them. Not children. Demons.

Daniel Selwyn nodded first. The boy was obviously the weaker-willed of them – and less likely to resist.

Tom summoned Daniel's wand, before placing it in the boy's hand.

''Do you, Daniel Selwyn, swear on your magic and life to always obey any order given to you by me unconditionally and to the best of your ability?''

The boy trembled at the wording, but seeing Darian finger his wand again, he quickly answered. ''Y-yes.''

''Do you, Daniel Selwyn, swear on your magic and life to never reveal anything pertaining to what happened from the moment you entered the room, until you leave it?''

''I..do…''

''Do you, Daniel Selwyn, swear on your magic and life to always aid me, and never work against me; keep my secrets and never betray me?''

''Yes.''

''Do you, Daniel Selwyn, swear on your magic and life to never try to break the previously sworn vows?''

''Y-yes.''

Tom smiled at the boy who had just signed away his life and free will, so foolishly – and motioned towards Theodred. He would take care of his new slave.

Tom didn't know why no one had ever thought to use such a glaring constraint as the Unbreakable Vow. While adults would rather die than be bound, children were far more malleable, not quite thinking past the obvious relief. Tom had immediately thought about this nifty loophole as soon as he had seen the two strudents so very defenceless at his mercy. Otherwise he would have never dared to reveal himself like that.

''Now, then Jerald Lockworth, will you do the same thing… Or should I tell Professor Slughorn that you begged me to intensively tutor you tomorrow the whole day. I'm sure my friends would enjoy getting to experiment a little more.''

''I'll…I'll swear.''

''Brilliant.'' Tom patted him on the head fondly.

''Do you, Jerald Lockworth, swear on your magic and life to always obey any order given to you by me unconditionally and to the best of your ability?''

''Yes.''

''Do you, Jerald Lockworth, swear on your magic and life to never reveal anything pertaining to what happened from the moment you entered the room, until you leave it?''

''Yes.''

''Do you, Jerald Lockworth, swear on your magic and life to always aid me, and never work against me; keep my secrets and never betray me?''

''I do.''

''Do you, Jerald Lockworth, swear on your magic and life to never try to break the previously sworn vows?''

''Y-yes.''

Tom waved at Cassius next; they would have to fix those children up a little bit. Unfortunately the two girls weren't there. While Eileen was utterly focused on potions, Alyria had taken to learn minor healing spells, enough to fix superficial wounds.

It was less than ten minutes before Theodred and Cassius dragged his little slaves before Tom, who was already comfortably seated in his armchair again.

''Kneel.'' He commanded softly, watching in satisfaction as they hurried to obey, less they die as punishment for violating their oath.

''You will collect information from the House of Slytherin – you will report anything you find to us in this room every Saturday, at twelve. If there is anything important, make you sure contact one of us in such a manner that an association between us is not made apparent. Have I made myself clear?''

''Yes'' Both hurried to answer, not daring to look at him.

''You may leave, my slaves.''

Jared Lockworth and Daniel Selwyn nearly fled out of the room – Tom's amused laughter following them into the hall.

''Now, let us go get some dinner.''

{2}

The rest of the school year went by without any surprises. Tom and his group occupied the highest spots in the exams – Tom firmly hogging the first place in any class. It was no wonder that they had done so well when Tom had tutored them so extensively in magic. Slytherin's beginner books were far more extensive than the first year curriculum after all.

The Slytherin House had settled under him with surprising lack of protest after several months of his rule. They seemed to have taken his words about ability to heart – and Tom sometimes went around to those who had the best marks, and got the most points for the House and praised them, magic dark and addicting – sometimes even gifting them with rare potions like liquid luck given to him by Slughorn as presents.

His two slaves were also proving helpful, letting him know what the rest of the House was thinking – and generally reporting anything worth knowing to him.

They had reserved the hours after twelve for trying out some spells, his slaves more than happy to obey his every command. They had completely let go of their rebellious attitudes, doing their utmost to please him so that their punishment may get lessened.

Naturally Tom always made sure that Avery didn't come short, after eight months under his control, the boy had even less free will than his slaves – and it was always entertaining to have a dog.

Slytherin had naturally won the House cup, Tom winning more points than any other student for his House – and the Hall was firmly decked in green and silver.

Eating the Hogwarts meal one last time for this school year; Tom couldn't help but feel more than reluctant to return to the orphanage. Living in such a dirty and dingy thing couldn't compare to having such fun at Hogwarts.

Well, he could use the time to read more of Slytherin's journals. His research into that had fallen a little flat in comparison to all the things he could learn at Hogwarts. He had also collected some useful things in the Room of Requirement – trunks full of old things that students had lost, money and jewelry; brooms and books, and a multitude of potions preserved with stasis charms.

It was truly surprising how much people could lose without becoming aware of it.

Well, at least he knew that it would only take two months for him to return.

For his second year at Hogwarts.

* * *

A/N So next chapter is up! I hope to introduce the characters closest to Tom a little more, so a small backstory for twisted and sadistic Darian ;)

Hope you liked it!

The next shouldn't take too long either. I'm still on a roll!

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


	9. Chapter 9 - Onwards to Year 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. That honour belongs solely to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any kind of money or profit out of this story; it is purely for my reader's enjoyment.

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 **General Warnings:** Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle, AU, Violence in later chapters

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 **Summary:** Tom Riddle had unlimited potential, only tempered and twisted by his crippling fear of death. Luckily this wasn't his story anymore and subsequently the future writes itself anew. After all in this life where strength equalled survival, and weakness equalled death – failure was no option. Antagonistic!SI, SI as Tom Riddle

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _Eating the Hogwarts meal one last time for this school year; Tom couldn't help but feel more than reluctant to return to the orphanage. Living in such a dirty and dingy thing couldn't compare to having such fun at Hogwarts._

 _Well, he could use the time to read more of Slytherin's journals. His research into that had fallen a little flat in comparison to all the things he could learn at Hogwarts. He had also collected some useful things in the Room of Requirement – trunks full of old things that students had lost, money and jewelry; brooms and books, and a multitude of potions preserved with stasis charms._

 _It was truly surprising how much people could lose without becoming aware of it._

 _Well, at least he knew that it would only take two months for him to return._

 _For his second year at Hogwarts._

* * *

Chapter 9 – Onwards to Year 2

* * *

Diagon Alley was still as busy as Tom remembered it to be; families hurrying from one shop to the next, the sun bright and warm on the Monday afternoon. His vacation had been largely unspectacular – spent reading and practicing his wandless magic; while imagining his next year at Hogwarts. Occasionally answering some owls he received from his friends, always so eager to hear his opinion. Every letter only served to amuse him even more. Orion had already told him at the beginning of the year that for pureblood families, Hogwarts was a test. The children would be expected to use their families teaching to find a foothold in the hierarchy, and the ensuing order would most likely last for decades after Hogwarts.

It was another fine detail that would make things easier for Tom. He had tested it during the last year, and after not a single student had snitched about what happened to their families, at least not noticeably – he had adjusted his plans accordingly.

Naturally, Tom would make it his first priority during the next school year to figure out a way to make such a thing impossible in the future.

The only difficulty was the Muggle World; Tom was born shortly before the Second World War – and England would certainly not be spared the bombardment. Such a mundane issue that had struck him cold once a bomber plane had flown past their orphanage.

The war that would claim so many lives, destroy so many worlds that even decades later when he first learned of it in school, it had left Tom reeling.

On September first, 1939 the Second World War started. A war that would only end six years later in 1945, with over several tens of million victims. Tom didn't know if it was his own imagination, but muggle London seemed tense already, as if they could feel the embers ready to ignite.

It hadn't been a problem this summer break, but Tom would have to spend some time next year thinking about that issue. It wouldn't do for him to die prematurely in some random attack – that wasn't what he had this second chance for.

Tom wore simple, but well-tailored robes – a necessary indulgence – as he went about his business, adding even more books to his already large collection from the previous year. He was quite a scholar at heart, and magic was just so fascinating. It was a shame that wizards seemed to have declared so many things impossible just because none in their memory seemed to have the ability.

His friends all had the ability to cast many of their spell repertoires wordlessly – and even if Tom thought wandless magic was still beyond their ability – he would at least try to teach them some.

Tom fingered the advanced transfiguration book pensively, wondering whether it would be worth spending money on – when he remembered a little detail that had fled his grasp before. Didn't Grindelwald rise during the Second World War?

Tom remembered the Dark Lord before Voldemort, called Gellert Grindelwald. The one defeated by Albus Dumbledore, who used to be his friend? lover?; Tom didn't quite remember. Only that his defeat was what propelled Dumbledore's name to such a legendary status.

Distracted by his spiraling thoughts, he quietly picked up his chosen books, paying absent-mindedly after grabbing a newspaper. Tom rather disliked the prophet, for someone used to a comprehensive and truthful paper – it was barely more than a gossip rack. But even gossip often contained nuggets of truth.

Tom waited until he was in his room at the orphanage until he started perusing the newspaper, pouring over the articles with a single-minded focus. It hardly satisfied him, but he was already out of the loop enough so far away from any happenings.

Regarding Grindelwald, Tom didn't quite remember when Dumbledore beat him, but it should be some years away. He would have to think of a way to take advantage of his knowledge – no matter how premature such thoughts were currently. Tom would never become like Grindelwald, or Voldemort. A Dark Lord was a target for everyone. Would be fought by the government and volunteers alike. Tom would choose a different way.

Sighing, he packed his new books into his trunk where the rest of his things were already arranged carefully – before shutting it a final time.

Tomorrow he would go back home.

To Hogwarts.

{1}

The Hogwarts Express was as striking as he remembered it to be, and Tom like last year made his way to the station with a cab quite some time before the Express even started. Choosing one of the last compartments, he made himself comfortable with one of his new books – and waited.

As the minutes passed, Tom heard more and more families arrive – the noise increasing steadily, and Tom furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance.

Why did they have to be so obnoxious anyway? It wasn't like their children would be gone forever.

Locking his compartment with barely a thought, Tom waited for his friends to arrive. He wasn't in a mood to socialize and wear his mask – and his friends would understand.

Unsurprisingly the first one to unlock the compartment, and enter was Orion Black. The now second year Slytherin was the one who was most observant among their group – apart from Tom naturally – and knew most of Tom's habits already.

''Tom.'' Orion greeted him warmly, levitating his trunk upwards – and apart from a light tan Tom couldn't notice any difference from the last time they had seen each other during the ride home.

Tom smiled back, expression devoid of innocence, but much more genuine for it. ''Orion, how was your break?''

''Great…'' The Black heir seemed rather embarrassed. ''But I missed you.''

Tom blinked at the unexpected confession, but surprisingly he could relate. He had noticed his lack of eagerness at his solitary existence at the orphanage – the irritation of having no one to share his joys with. ''Me too, Orion. I have missed you as well.''

Maybe Orion could sense his truthfulness, but the stoic Slytherin was outright beaming from joy. For all his smiles, and kind words – Tom wasn't very good at expressing himself.

The door clicked open another time, Darian grinning at Tom eagerly, Alyria and Eileen in a quiet conversation behind him, Avery lurking silently nearby; Theodred and Cassius's voices clearly audible – and Tom could feel his mood improve with every familiar face.

The compartment was soon enough full, their trunks out of the way – and Tom renewed the spells on the door; only this time he made them stronger.

''Welcome back.'' Tom greeted his closest friends, and pet – the joyful faces answering his unspoken words.

''We missed you, Tom.'' Darian spoke for all of them – all the children who had assembled around the one who had changed their life.

Darian didn't think he was exaggerating. It was just a feeling – a small inkling that without Tom their lives would have been far more different.

''I'm so glad we can go back to Hogwarts.'' Theodred remarked quietly, the thought echoed between all of them.

''Will miracles never cease?'' Eileen raised her eyebrow is amusement, and Cassius snickered to the side.

''Stop teasing Theo already. All of us are glad to be back.'' Orion interrupted, sighing when he saw Eileen huff in amusement. He truly didn't understand her half the time.

''That is true.'' Alyria stated shortly, before pulling out one of her books – ignoring the world around her.

Tom shared an amused glance with Orion, Darian groaning in aggravation at the stand-offish behavior of his twin.

The rest of the train ride was passed comfortably, all of them eager what the new school year would bring.

{2}

The common room was mostly quiet as more and more students went towards their rooms, or chose to seat themselves, waiting for the new Slytherin students to arrive. Tom was more than pleased by the awed looks still shown his way, the respectful distance his existence garnered. He was seated in his usual armchair, still not wholly decided on what he should do with those little lambs. His friends were seated around him, speaking quietly among themselves.

Perhaps a demonstration was in order? A few subtle threads? Or should he catch them with the carrot instead of the stick?

It didn't take long for the eight new first-years to be led to the common room by the fifth year prefects – seeming curious and excited at having been placed in this house.

Tom was aware of the irony involved. Just last year he had been in the place of the first years. Now a year later, he was watching the same procedure as the ruler of Slytherin. But that was the difference between them.

Seeing the form of the seventh-year prefect and former ruler of Slytherin, Jonathan Wilkes whispering something into the fifth-year male prefects' ear – Tom's curiosity was more than peaked. Especially as Wilkes then approached Tom's group – steps sure, but eyes lowered.

His slaves had reported to him that Wilkes had flayed into some dissatisfied seventh years last year during late March – the ones who could not get used to listening to a first-year half-blood.

It had intrigued Tom – one reason why he was inclined to think better of Wilkes.

Wilkes stopped in front of Tom, a respectful distance away, before waiting to be acknowledged. It was an interesting move to make, Tom noted.

''Wilkes. Is anything the matter?'' Tom finally asked after a moment of prolonged silence. He had to admit, he was rather curious.

Jonathan Wilkes tilted his head in acknowledgement. ''The first years have arrived. Do you want to say anything to them before we release them into their rooms?''

If Jonathan Wilkes previous move was interesting, then this question thoroughly piqued Tom's interest. The notion was worth thinking about, and Tom had thought about it for quite some while, before dismissing it.

They would learn to obey him sooner or later anyway.

But if Jonathan Wilkes, a seventh year prefect was offering… ''I'll leave it up to you, Jonathan.''

The change of address was not lost on the seventh year. Jonathan Wilkes liked to think of himself as intelligent, ambitious certainly – but he had never understood how much he was still lacking until that December evening during his sixth year.

Slytherin – as far as he remembered – always had a few students 'ruling' the House. They were always a mixture of fifth and sixth year, the seventh year students too busy studying for the NEWTs – the best and brightest of their respective years.

It was a reward for those who had the highest grades, were the most widely respected in their year. Still, they had far less power than others might think. They could only change some minor rules, make the other Slytherin's remember them as authority, as someone superior. Ironically Jonathan Wilkes believed that Slytherin hadn't had a ruler until Tom Riddle sat on that armchair as if it were a throne, magic saturating the air – looking untouchable even with his small stature.

It hadn't even occurred to Wilkes not to obey, not to assemble the whole House because of an eleven-year old's order.

He had watched with bated breath as the whole House had shut up and _listened_. From the second years to the seventh years – they had let him go unchallenged, let him take up the reigns – too much in awe, too afraid to go against him.

During the following months Jonathan had watched as their House slowly, subtly transformed. Not everyone was happy with the circumstances, but those were quickly silenced – and Jonathan hadn't missed the way two third-years – Lockworth and Selwyn paled every time Tom was so much as mentioned.

Tom Riddle _ruled_ Slytherin.

Jonathan was aware that the status quo had changed when he had first heard a fourth-year correct himself when he was about to say mudblood, the smile on a second years face when Tom only so much as looked at him.

He had never even heard of half the things Tom could do with his magic, and for all the fear and nightmares it had brought him, Jonathan couldn't regret the hot-headed spur of the moment reaction when he had spoken against Tom. It had shown him the gulf between them – how different Tom was from the rest of them – and Jonathan could understand why even Orion Black had let Tom Riddle take the lead without any opposition.

He had debated with himself for the whole summer break, wondering what he should do with his fascination.

It had only been when he saw Tom Riddle for the first time in two months, sitting down on his arm-chair, still looking like he was reclining on a throne fit for a king – that Jonathan decided he wanted to know Tom better. Be closer to him.

So Jonathan Wilkes only nodded at the instructions, lowering his head slightly, a small respectful bow more than anything else – and turned back to the first-years.

Feeling like a burden had been lifted form his shoulders, and yet like it had increased a thousand times.

It looked like it would be a very interesting year.

{3}

Second year so far was not much different than the first year, Tom privately thought. They still had the same subject, same teachers – same routine. Yet, other things had changed.

Tom had wondered if summer break would tempt some students to attempt some kind of rebellion against his rule – but it seemed to be the opposite happening. Perhaps it was because of Jonathan Wilkes' seventh-year prefects' rather public submittal – or because they realized that going against him was no use, but the House seemed to be even more respectful to him than last year.

Jonathan Wilkes had been a pleasant surprise. Tom had already known that the boy seemed to acknowledge his rule, but to show his support so openly had been a risky move. One that impressed Tom.

For now, Tom had made sure that Wilkes had the authority to be a speaker for the upper years, in case they did not wish to bother Tom. He was the link between Tom and the older Slytherin's that Tom rarely interacted with.

It worked out rather well.

Tom and the rest of his group were more than relieved when the first week was over, and they could spend the Saturday holed up in their hide-out. Tom actually sighed in relief as he slumped on his armchair and Cassius closed the door behind him – all of his friends showing their own signs of exhaustion as they allowed themselves to rest.

''T…Tom…'' Tom turned his eyes downwards at the trembling form of Avery sitting at his feet, the boy having been very quiet during the last weeks.

''Yes, Alexander?'' Tom pretended to be unaware of the issue. It was clear to him that Avery suffered from withdrawal. The boy having become addicted to his magic, and after two months without it – he was bound to be desperate. It was a sign how dedicated to Tom he was to not have asked it of him before they entered this room.

''Pl…Please, Tom.'' Avery pleaded desperately. ''I've been a good boy.''

''Good boys don't disturb someone when they are tired. I'll be sure to punish you thoroughly later.'' Tom smiled warmly at the trembling boy, seeing the _elation_ there – before ignoring his pet to focus on Orion.

''What do you think of the first-years so far?''

Orion shrugged. ''Honestly? I haven't seen anyone particularly outstanding so far. Still whatever Wilkes said to them seems to work. They seem to be completely in awe of us.''

''They won't dare to cause any problems.'' Darian added, ''…and the rest of the House seems to be settling under you nicely.''

''Indeed. Have you seen how they look at you?'' Cassius snickered. ''They can't seem to decide whether to fear, or be in awe of you.''

''They don't know Tom. Not like we do.'' Theodred interjected quietly. ''Or they would know that they should do both.''

''Do you want to expand the group, Tom?'' Orion changed the topic, elaborating when he saw Tom's raised eyebrow. ''We're all in the same year group. It would be good to have some older students in this group. That way it would be easier to make sure all year-groups follow the rules.''

''I have thought about it. I agree with you that we need some more people. It would be highly helpful.'' Tom agreed, chuckling when he saw the expressions, torn between acceptance and reluctance. ''Don't worry, this won't change anything. We will just have a few more friends.''

''Any suggestions?'' Darian asked. ''I'm not really that familiar with most of the upper-years apart from their names and the most commonly known facts.''

''Let's ask our slaves. They're in fourth year. They should know who would be more receptive.'' Tom finished the discussion, smirking maliciously – expressions just as dark appearing on his friends faces.

Alyria and Eileen seemed to be ignoring them entirely – but Tom knew that it was because they were raised differently from the male purebloods. They were loyal to him, but not prone to violence, instead they studied magic.

He didn't begrudge them their choice. They were just as drawn to him as the others were after all.

Eillen finally looked up from her book – looking at Tom pleadingly. ''Tom, can I try out some my potions on your slaves at some point?''

Huffing in amusement, Tom agreed – watching slightly stumped as Eileen nearly teleported with how quickly she had grabbed her things and Alyria, before marching out of the room. Tom figured he wouldn't see them again until the potion was finished.

Only minutes later, just as the clock was about to strike twelve; the door opened haltingly. Tom had given the password to the two fourth-years during the last year since they couldn't betray him anyway.

Daniel Selwyn and Jerald Lockworth stepped into the room, and without hesitation kneeled at Tom's feet. They knew by now not to leave that position until Tom allowed them to.

''My slaves.'' Tom greeted them warmly, and he saw them tense minutely. They knew by now that he was by far crueler when he smiled like that.

''Yes?'' Jerald Lockworth – still the bolder of the two – asked, voice slightly trembling.

''From the fourth and fifth-years, who would be most suited to be a leader?'' Tom crossed his ankles – looking down at the two in amusement.

''Malfoy.'' Daniel voiced his opinion, the blond not daring to raise his face. ''Abraxas Malfoy. He's the leader of the fourth years… and he has spoken well of you.''

''Oh? Has he?'' Tom hummed the name Malfoy more than familiar. Lucius and Draco Malfoy had been of that family. Perhaps Abraxas was their father, or rather grandfather in Draco's case.

''Yes. He spoke about how amazing it was that even a seventh year, especially Jonathan Wilkes submitted to you so quickly.'' Lockworth added nervously.

Tom smiled in amusement. ''What do you think about me?''

Lockworth paled several shades, until he looked rather sickly. ''You are my master.'' He eventually stated when the Unbreakable Vow forced him to answer.

''Indeed, I am. No matter – I will approach Malfoy later. It is good to know that he does possess some intelligence at the very least.'' Tom decided, and he saw Orion nod out of the corner of his eye. It seemed like he approved of Malfoy.

''What about Wilkes?'' Darian suggested, eyeing the two students kneeling at Tom's feet predatorily. He hadn't played with anyone for two months and he was just itching to draw his wand and make them scream.

Though – of course – he would wait until Tom gave his permission to punish his slaves.

''He's been keeping an eye out for the upper years, and he's shown that he respects you enough.'' Cassius remarked. ''Plus his family are famous barristers; they've been lawyers for centuries. They represent the majority of the important pureblood families, so they have quite a bit influence.''

''Let's first bring Jonathan on board. I want to observe Malfoy some more.''

With that, it was decided and Tom turned his attention to the slaves still kneeling at his feet. Transfiguring some debris into two hollow egg like objects, Tom handed them to the two confused fourth-years.

''If those are still undamaged in thirty minutes, you may leave this room. If they are damaged…'' Tom smirked gleefully. ''You are going to stay here for quite some time. All of us are afraid to be out of practice… So it might be a little painful. Now, you may move around this room, but not leave it. Good luck.''

Tom ignored the whimpers from the hastily scrambling boys, and turned his attention to the pet still trembling at his feet.

''My dear Alexander…'' Tom sighed, almost as if he was disappointed and he could see Avery's shame at having disappointed him.

''I'm sorry, Tom.'' Avery whispered shame-facedly. ''But… I… I just…''

''You've been a bad boy.'' Tom trained his wand at Avery – watching curiously as the twelve-year old clawed at his stomach viciously, screams erupting from his mouth.

Tom purposefully flooded Avery's body with his magic, saturated the air with it – and he could almost see Avery's conflict between pleasure and pain.

Tom didn't stop though, increasing the dose constantly – pain and pleasure warring with each other – listening to the incoherent begging released between bloody lips. Avery – Tom knew – had quite the resistance to torture already, where his slaves still passed out after some dozen minutes, Avery often managed to stay awake in one go for close to two hours.

Tom was only peripherally aware that his two slaves had lost their little game, and were screaming at the other side of the room, his friends looking like they enjoyed themselves immensely.

This day had been very relaxing, indeed.

* * *

A/N Been a while! A new chapter… hopefully it is well-received. Don't worry Tom won't remain unobstructed forever, but for now he is too young to garner serious interest… so you'll have to wait for a while while his influence grows…

I'll try to get another chapter out this month, though I won't make any promises.

C'ya soon

AriesOrion


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